


The Marriage of Figaro

by starfishies



Category: Classical Music RPF, Historical RPF, Music RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Beethoven, Classical Music, M/M, Teacher-Student Relationship, Vienna, Young Beethoven, composers, mozart - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-01-25 14:49:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12534160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starfishies/pseuds/starfishies
Summary: Inspired by an incredible set of comics that I hope she will share once this story is completeBeethoven travels to Vienna to learn from the Great Master himself - inspired by his charms and his work, the aspiring young composer discovers much about music and himself.





	1. Accidental Bliss

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hannah Buena](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Hannah+Buena).



> Set prior to the May 1st premier of The Marriage of Figaro - please don't flame me, I know Beethoven was not yet 18, but just go with it ok people?!

"It would seem that our little Barbarina and the young ladies of the chorus were all a flutter with talk of a mysterious young man in attendance at today's rehearsal." Wolfgang teased with a grin. He began pulling absently at the thin blades of spring grass that rustled between them. As it seemed, Mozart was always doing something with his hands...

Laying comfortably skywards with eyes closed,  the young Ludwig politely ignored the light humored taunting and simply smiled with a subdued chuckle. He had only been in Vienna for a short while, but he already felt a certain comfort here,  despite being miles away from home. Sometimes at night, when sleep would not come, he would stare up at the ceiling with a wrenching sense of melancholy washing over him, dampening his thoughts. A longing for the quaintness of his home, his old bed, for his Mama, alas, with the sun warming his face in that very moment and his musical career seemingly within his grasp, it was all but a fleeting thought. He shrugged the idea away, to which Mozart raised a curious eyebrow, but he knew better than to pry. He had not been long in his life, but Wolfgang already knew that words did not come easily to the brooding young man who had caught the attention of his young female chorus.  
  
Since Ludwig's arrival a few weeks prior, Herr Mozart had been more than accommodating. Impressed by his piano skills, Mozart remained a demanding teacher, but moreover, he became a delightful companion for the talented boy. For him, Ludwig worked tirelessly. He was bold, he was sure and he wanted to prove himself to the great master of which he had modelled so much of his own musical self. Ludwig was eager to take on whatever may be required of him, after all, he wanted to be regarded as a consummate professional.  
  
He had spent the last several nights cramping his hands and straining his eyes to copy the new overture for Herr Mozart's latest opera, _The Marriage of Figaro_. A bold piece and, technically demanding. A flurry of notes which Ludwig had painstakingly copied pitch by pitch in the finest print he could muster. Having seen Ludwig's own fledgling compositions, Herr Mozart had deemed it a good exercise for the young man, the copying of the wicked new overture would serve _"to improve his wretched penmanship."_  
  
He knew what Herr Mozart was saying about Frau Gottlieb and the other ladies to be true, for he himself had heard the chatter from the wings of the theatre as rehearsal wrapped up. Singers gawked and whispered amongst themselves, who was the young man the Maestro had accompanying him? Was he a new pupil? It was no secret that Mozart had tutored several young prodigies over the years, and even taken a few into his lodging for a period of time. Perhaps Beethoven was only the next in a long line of mediocre talents, soon to be blessed by Mozart's goodwill and teachings.  
  
It was warm that afternoon in Vienna. It was nearly May and the sun shone brightly, bringing everything to life. Couples walked to a fro, ladies tastefully dressed with wide brimmed hats neatly pinned in place. Tired maids with their young charges racing about by the river, carts rattling by as the market bustled with activity. It was almost as if it were a scene from a painting, or a passage from novel. For a boy from a small town, the energy of it all was very romantic. Resting his hands softly over the buttons of his plain waistcoat Ludwig exhaled peacefully, he wished to stay in this moment forever.  
  
"There are some very pretty girls in the chorus, wouldn't you say _Herr Beethoven?_ " Mozart interrupted his thoughts once more. His voice was tinged with that audaciousness that made Ludwig flush. Seeing a soft rose brighten his cheeks Wolfgang grinned wickedly, "I knew it!" he whispered lowly, tossing bits of grass at the motionless boy in an effort to finally get a rise out of him. He knew Ludwig had a temper, and setting him off had quickly become one his most favourite things. Ludwig peeled one distrustful eye open to size up his tormentor, but thought better of it and simply brushed the foliage from his face peacefully. Wolfgang frowned with disappointment - _what, was the boy learning some sort of self control?_  
  
"Yes Herr Mozart, I would not deny that." Ludwig muttered, eyes still closed. It was safer to keep them that way.  
  
"Oh? So it's true then?" Wolfgang questioned in mock disbelief, "Deep down in there somewhere you have emotion?" he poked playfully at Ludwig's middle, making him flinch and finally open his eyes. Sitting up on his elbows Ludwig grumbled in a flustered blush, "Well - of course I do!" _Be careful Ludwig_ , he calmed himself internally.  
  
"Is that so?" Wolfgang grinned, loving the reaction he was getting, "So, do you like any of those girls Ludwig? They seemed rather interested in meeting you. As the conductor of the production, and your tutor - I can certainly arrange that if you wish."  
  
_No...._  
  
Ludwig's face burned with red  
  
"Danke Herr Mozart but...." Ludwig bowed his head shyly, his belly twisting itself inside out torturously. He too began to pluck at the grass beneath him, anything to escape the pressure of this moment.  
  
"May I ask you something Ludwig?" Wolfgang’s voice suddenly turned serious, peaking Ludwig's interest. He stilled and glanced out from under his mess of hair cautiously, was this another one of Mozart's traps?  
  
"What if one of those girls wanted to kiss you?" his bold question was met with wretched silence, "Have you ever kissed a woman before?" Wolfgang asked with genuine intrigue, propping himself up on one arm. Ludwig swallowed nervously, praying for something - _anything_ \- to change the subject. It was true, he had kissed a girl - several in fact - but the emptiness, and the disappointment that came with it terrified him. It was true he did have passion, he did have emotion, deep down. He had it for music, he had it for God.  
  
He could feel it, he could feel it so strongly that it made him ache - it even made him cry. The frustration of it burning in his belly was almost unbearable. Whilst his friends were busy chasing young ladies, he only felt confused. Could he see their beauty, did he admire their physique? Of course, but when their lips finally met his own - he felt nothing of what his friends spoke of. A hurried peck on the cheek, an awkward brush of their lips, a dance danced too close. Nothing.

  
But staring at his Maestro in that moment, sprawled out on the spring grass, waistcoat unbuttoned, hair tussled and falling loose from its bow, those expressive blue eyes, he felt his mouth run dry. He had heard rumours of these sorts of things, but knew them to be untrue. Or at least, he had hoped. He prayed that if he ignored the feelings, they'd simply go away. Perhaps the perfect young lady would make him forget - or at least, satisfy. However, unfortunately it seemed that the problem only grew worse by the day. And lately, with Mozart as his tutor and companion, it had been growing nearly out of control. He flopped back onto the grass with a sigh. closing his eyes once more, masking his turmoil with an outward expression of forced content. He was hoping Herr Mozart would interpret the blush in his cheeks as a sign of having had a few novice experiences thus far. Perhaps _then_ he would leave him alone.  
  
Wolfgang was not so easily convinced, nor was he merciful.  
  
Unsatisfied with Ludwig's lack of response, Wolfgang decided to take their conversation to the next  
level. "What if _I_ kissed you?" It was a brazen question to be sure, but he was determined to get this boy to talk if it was the last thing he'd do. Leaning over him with a smug expression, eyebrows raised, he awaited Ludwig's reply.  
  
Ludwig debated silently over what to say - deciding to turn the conversation on its head. Wolfgang loved to play games, so play one he shall!  
  
"If it's you Maestro - I don't mind..." Ludwig held back a smile, wishing he could open his eyes to gauge his Master's reaction for both his own entertainment, but also with a tinge of seriousness.  
  
Ludwig tried to distract himself from the serious silence that followed by listening to the sounds of the surrounding nature - the wind rustling the trees, a bird singing somewhere in the distance, but all of it was deafened by the erratic thumping of his heart in his chest. He chewed his lip nervously before opening his eyes to see Wolfgang staring down at him curiously. The deepness of his gaze caught him off guard and he scrambled up onto his elbows, staring back with a mixture of fear and longing. Wolfgang smiled, watching him squirm, his smugness making Ludwig grow bold in anger. Is he mocking me? Furrowing his brow with determination Ludwig leaned forward and closed the distance between them, feeling the surprising softness of the Maestro's lips against his own. He felt him stiffen in surprise before Ludwig pulled away, noticing Wolfgang's eyes had blown to twice their normal size.  
  
Ludwig felt immediate remorse, dizzy from the reality of what had just occurred. His hand flew to his forehead and he dropped his eyes to the grass below. "I....Ah!" he gasped, on the verge of frustrated tears. He could feel the hot droplets threatening to spill out and stain his cheeks, he quickly bit his tongue to hold them back, "I'm so sorry Maestro - I should have known you were only joking" he sputtered in a fluster of embarrassment and shame, gathering his coat and leaping to his feet.  
  
"Wait -" Wolfgang's face softened as he watched the boy desperately gather his things, reaching out to grab his arm in an effort to stop him but Ludwig quickly pulled away and bolted, darting off towards town.  
  
"I wasn't...." Mozart finished feebly in a whisper while watching the retreating figure disappear over the crest of the hill.


	2. Cry Baby

Ludwig wandered the streets of Vienna aimlessly for the better part of the afternoon. He marched angrily with his head tucked low, muttering to himself as he snaked through the throngs of towns folk. Their boisterous conversations and bubbling laughter only further fueled his frustration as he mulled over the unfortunate events of earlier that afternoon. He was angry at the world. Angry at the Maestro for leading him on, but mostly at himself for acting on his impulses. Idiot he cursed himself, ashamed of what he had done. How he wished he could just dig a hole right out on the top of that very hill and burying himself alive! 

He felt sick at the idea of returning home and seeing Herr Mozart standing there with that pompous smirk, or worse - perhaps he would not even have such a repulsive creature back in his home? He played the gut wrenching scene out in his mind once more. Approaching the fifth floor flat, he'd knock with great apprehension. Herr Mozart's maid would answer through a crack in the door, her knowing eyes would narrow in disgust. He must have told her. "You're no longer welcome here, your things are out on the landing. Please take your leave young sir, good day." With that, the door would slam shut and so would end his musical career before it had even begun. He'd return home to Bonn in shame.

Leaning heavily against the stone wall of a busy tavern, he sighed in defeat letting his head fall back to the hit brickwork. He winced at the dull thud and squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a pathetic whine that even he was stranger to. He sounded like a wounded animal, one who'd been speared by a hunter's arrow. Running on shaking legs, eventually collapsing on the forest floor, laying pathetically on its side, moments away from drawing its final breath. Alone and frightened. He supposed that on some level he'd rather like to be that poor animal, waiting for the final peacefulness of death to overtake him. Instead, here he was - living and breathing, forced into the wretched existence that he seemed fated to endure, just as God intended. 

 

\------

Taking the long route home, Herr Mozart carefully contemplated what he would say to young Ludwig when he finally arrived back at the apartment. Would Ludwig be angry with him? Had he unfairly judged the boy? After all, he was only sixteen - he had seen so little of the world. Yet he seemed so passionate - so eager! He seemed so sure.  
Mozart reasoned with himself, how could he have known Ludwig would have kissed him like that? The boy was bold, Mozart knew - but he never would have suspected that reaction! He was only teasing him - not that Wolfgang minded the kiss in the least... Oh how he wished he had not offended him so! Or at least, that he'd managed to convince him not to run away. The concern was - would the boy be too ashamed to even rectify the situation? And where had he run off too? Mozart felt heavy guilt as he mulled over his tangled thoughts. 

When he finally arrived home, the maid confirmed Ludwig's continued absence while taking his coat, "No Sir, Herr Beethoven has not yet returned." He frowned, kicking off his shoes with a nod, "Well, please alert me when he does.."

The poor creature, Mozart thought as he leaned against the door of the boy's room regretfully. He sighed, folding his arms across his chest as he surveyed the rumpled linens, the stacks of manuscript and abandoned scribblings. Mozart's heart bled for him. He must be in such a state....

It was nearly midnight when Ludwig finally made it to the steps of the platz, staring up the imposing set of stairs that lead to his apartment. He swallowed thickly, holding the banister for fear that if he let go, he'd simply fall right over. Even from several flights below, he could hear loud voices laughing and carrying on. He prayed that the raucous noise was coming from another flat, but he knew otherwise. It was a Friday, and Herr Mozart always had guests on Fridays. He prayed that this Friday would different - Herr Mozart be out for the evening. He prayed could sneak in to his room without being seen. He prayed. He prayed for anything.

The long climb to the 5th floor took Ludwig nearly a quarter of an hour as he dragged himself to each step, wincing with each move as it brought him closer to that dreaded encounter. As he got closer, he began to distinguish the voices inside, men. Happy men - playing a game? Billiards perhaps, or cards - the Maestro was fond of both. A deep rumbling laugh reached his ears. Anton Stadler, the clarinettist, Ludwig had met him last week. He recognized the voice immediately.

As he stood on the landing holding his breath, Ludwig absorbed what he could of the conversation inside.

"And what did you do?" Stadler's voice was muffled through the thick apartment door, "Me?" Mozart.

Ludwig's stomach dropped, he couldn't possibly be telling Stadler about....?

"Nothing, I did nothing - he just left." 

"He left?! Ha - Wolf you old dog!" Stadler bellowed heartily above the familiar clank of marble billiards as they smacked against one another. There was no way he could enter just yet. Ludwig lowered his hand from the handle of the heavy wooden door just as it swung open, much to his shock.

Mozart was as equally as surprised when he realized Herr Beethoven was standing sheepishly outside his front door, "Well I - oh!" he jumped, seeing the familiar face staring back at him from the shadows. The light cast out from the apartment made it easy to identify the sullen face, creating an eerie glow on his pale complexion. 

Ludwig frowned under Mozart's silent appraisal, nervous and though he'd never admit it, a little scared. 

There he is. Looking right at me. Ludwig dug his nails into his palms anxiously.

In that same waistcoat from before, holding an empty bottle of wine in each hand, a look of surprise lighting his face, Mozart finally smiled. "Ludwig!" he practically whooped, as if he had recognized a long lost friend. Had the Maestro not expected him to return home at all, was he so surprised? Ludwig immediately dropped his gaze to the floor, backing away timidly. "Come, come...!" he dropped the bottles into the crate by the door and ushered the reluctant boy into the foyer.

"Anton - speak of the devil!" Mozart called over his shoulder playfully, raising his eyebrows as he awkwardly helped Ludwig from his coat. He tilted his head questioningly at the poor boy who averted his gaze completely, as if he was silently questioning, Where have you been?

"Yes?" Anton lumbered into the room, powdering his cue, "Is this him then? The wunderkind?" the old man eyed him carefully, as if he could measure his musical skill by his outward appearance. "Yes this is him. He's quite good." Mozart grinned proudly, clapping Ludwig on the back with surprising roughness causing Ludwig to jump ever so slightly. Ludwig's eyes widened under the old man's gaze, he was mortified. His mind whirred with a thousand thoughts. Was there any way he quietly slink away to his room and forget about this whole day? Dear God..."Taking on adolescents now eh? Now there's a challenge!" he scratched his grizzly chin.

"Do your students normally come home this late Wolf?" Anton raised an eyebrow and glanced Ludwig up and down, digesting him slowly. Stepping close enough that Ludwig could smell the stale liquor on his breath, he used the blunt end of the cue to tilt Ludwig's chin up, "Listen boy, staying up late and running around town isn't going to get your career anywhere. You'd better watch out, Herr Mozart doesn't need any trouble makers around here - he's got a big premier coming up and he's got a lot riding on that, understood?" Ludwig wrinkled his nose, nearly gagging from the putrid stench of his breath. With a grimace he simply nodded, he had no interest in arguing with the man - he just wanted to get the hell out of there.

Mozart gawked awkwardly at the exchange, "Well - Stadler, Ludwig's a good kid - really, I'm sure he was just, running errands..." he placed his hand over the cue and gently wrestled it from the drunkard's grasp. "Say, isn't it my turn next? Let's continue shall we?" he gestured back towards the billiards table in the adjoining room in an effort to distract the surly man. 

"Go to bed!" Wolfgang whispered under his breath as he guided his guest back to the unfinished game.

Ludwig stood in the foyer, holding his throat where the cue had pressed up against his skin, What in God's name was that about? He rubbed the soreness as he watched the Maestro happily resume his game, occasionally glancing over his shoulder to meet Ludwig's curious eye. He would frown briefly before turning back to guest with a smile. 

 

Ludwig finally trudged to his room hopelessly, flopping face down on the mess of sheets fully clothed. He was too exhausted to care. He was sure it would be his last night in Vienna, Herr Mozart would most likely send him home come morning, he prayed he would tell his associates it was for artistic differences. For the moment, the million thoughts that had raced through his head all afternoon had left him dizzy and completely drained. It was too much to even keep his eyes open any longer, he didn't want to think about today - or tomorrow - or anything! He gave in to exhaustion and fell into a tormented sleep, coiling himself protectively in his quilts.

 

\------------------------

 

Sometime later, he couldn't be sure if he had woken or if it was still a dream, he felt a hand brush his temple. Fingers tucking loose curls behind his ear, the weight of another body sinking down on the edge of the bed. Blinking groggily, Ludwig peered skeptically over his shoulder and was met with a pair of concerned blue eyes.

"You alright Ludwig?" His soft tenor was musical, even at this hour - whatever hour it was? He couldn't be sure.

Ludwig's eyes widened, suddenly awake. Wolfgang smiled affectionately at him, leaning one arm on either side, trapping the young man beneath him. "Ludwig?" He raised his eyebrows in concern, watching Ludwig's cheeks flush and his eyes dart about in panic, "I....er.." he squirmed helplessly, burying his nose in the covers in utter embarrassment. He could not escape this man. He cursed silently.

Ludwig grunted and tossed in frustration, not wanting to be made the fool. Certainly not this time!

"Go away!" he hissed, turning away as best he could from his merciless captor. Mozart frowned, pulling back slightly. He'd only come to apologize to the boy, he didn't mean him any harm. "Ludwig?" he questioned, his voice softened a tinge a hurt - enough to make the boy's heart shatter into a million tiny pieces. How Ludwig wanted to say what he really felt! But how could he? And what would Mozart care? He was just a stupid boy from nowhere. He furrowed his brow angrily. 

"Go. Away." he repeated, this time more seething, the bitterness in his tone was enough to cause Wolfgang to back away, raising his hands in defeat. "It's.....it's all right, you know? I'm not mad." the Maestro offered softly, rising from the bed with a mournful expression. He wanted to bring him peace - to let him know it was alright. He wanted to do so many things, but it was clear that Ludwig was not interested. Perhaps he had misjudged him after all? 

Glancing back once more before closing the door, he frowned at the sad little lump in the middle of the bed. "Maybe we can talk later then..." Mozart murmured, watching hopefully for any response. Frozen in a mixture of desire, confusion, rage and sadness it was all Ludwig could do but finally let those angry tears go. He tucked his head into the quilts as salty hot droplets streamed bitterly down his cheeks in silence. He could still sense Herr Mozart was watching him but he couldn't face him, not now. He stifled his sobs long enough to hear the comforting click of the door latch as it shut. 

Now. He choked audibly and drew a shaking breath.

He could finally cry in peace.


	3. Trouble in Paradise

"Stanzerl, calm down - please!" 

"Oh - you want me to stop? Like this is my fault?" 

"No...I - it's just that, I don't know what you think is going on here?" Wolfgang's voice sounded desperate as he tried to laugh it off, "My dearest I promise you - it's nothing to worry your pretty head about" His nonchalant tone only served to further irritate the already irate woman. Even through the door, Ludwig could easily make out the heated argument between what he could only assume was man and wife. 

"What I think is going? In my own house? Well! Who cares what I think? Clearly not you!" the feminine voice spat back vengefully. Ludwig could only imagine what else was going on out there. He had been hearing things clatter and smash for the better part of the hour. Their arguing was in fact, what had woken him that morning. Entering his second week in the Mozart apartment, he knew the Maestro was married, though he had not yet met his wife. He spoke very little of her during their time together, and he was beginning to see why.

The Maestro was social by nature - much more so than the boy. He was popular amongst many circles, musicians, aristocrats and especially women. Ludwig was impressed with his chameleon ability to float through a room, chatting easily with people from all walks of life. With men he spoke of politics, religion and finance - but he was equally as versed on the topics of fashion, poetry and love. Women were constantly batting their eyes and holding their breasts when he spoke, he loved the attention - but as far as Ludwig could judge, that was all it ever was, innocent banter.  
"You must think I'm stupid Wolfgang, why else would you want me out of the house?" 

"Stanzi I don't want you out - " He began on the defensive, but then suddenly yelped "Hey!" 

Was she throwing things? Ludwig's answer came in a sudden, definitive crash. A vase, or perhaps a dish - the sound of tiny glass shards splintering against a solid plank floor was nothing new to the boy. The quiet young man had been the unfortunate witness to many marital spats during his turbulent childhood, and several that were a great deal more violent than this particular lovers' quarrel. Nevertheless, his experience brought him no comfort as he winced and drew the covers up to his nose with a grimace.   
"Ok now that's enough - my father gave that to me!" Wolfgang said with as much authority as he could muster. His normally gentle voice had become scratchy and hoarse from the continued screaming, but it was also laced with exhaustion, likely from having stayed up nearly the entire night before playing billiards and getting drunk with his friends from the orchestra. Ludwig sighed, his headed was pounding from this all this nonsense. God, he wished they would just stop. Between yesterday's debacle up on the hill and this morning's raving lunacy - he was just about ready to pack his bags and return back to the simplicity of Bonn. 

Curious to see this fire breathing dragon the Maestro called a wife with his own eyes, he threw the covers back and swung his legs over the edge of the bed wincing at the coolness of the floor beneath his feet. He'd slept in his clothes, but where had his stockings gone? Wiggling his toes curiously he noticed the dark silk socks neatly folded and placed over the arm of his chair. Odd - had he done that? He had no recollection, and when was he ever that tidy? Sliding off the bed and tiptoeing carefully towards the door he peeked out the key hole but was disappointed to see only a pair of shapely legs in brilliant white stockings. It was his Maestro, elegantly dressed as always. His patent buckle shoes glistened, and a matching silver buckle glinted in the light just below the knee of his lilac breeches. Ludwig inventoried his own appearance, his rumpled linen shirt unbuttoned at the neck and his dark hair wild and disheveled, he must have looked a right mess. 

Then suddenly a wide skirt came into view, a striking shade of sky blue filling the keyhole completely. The many layers of petticoat provided an aristocratic air and ample fullness to the mysterious woman's gown. If Mozart dressed his wife as well as he did himself, Ludwig was certain that she would be considered by many - a lady of notable fashion. Daring to turn the handle enough to take a peak Ludwig held his breath, hoping to catch a better glimpse of the couple with his door discreetly ajar. He crouched, silently surveying the situation from behind the secluded privacy of his door. 

"My sister has told me all about what goes on here when I'm staying at Mama's! She said she heard it from Nancy Storace herself - and I can't have my Karl around that type of behaviour, it's not right. So when you're ready to grow up, you know where to find me!"

Karl?

Ludwig scrunched his face questioningly, who is Karl? Shifting uncomfortably as he rested on his heels, the old floor groaned beneath him, catching Constanze's attention mid phrase, "And another thing - " her head snapped suddenly in Ludwig's direction.

"What was that?" she narrowed her eyes at the bedroom door, placing her hands on her corseted waist hotly, "...er, what was what?" Wolfgang fumbled nervously, his eyes darting to the spare room "Don't play stupid with me Wolfgang - who are you hiding in the maid's room? Is that little slut in there right now?" Her eyes burned angrily as she grabbed her skirts and stormed up to the door, stomping her little shoes as she went. Ludwig scrambled up onto his feet, quickly smoothing back his hair and shakily buttoning his shirt. He was more than a little terrified about what was about to happen. He fidgeted nervously, stepping well clear of the door which swung open with a loud crash. 

"If you think my husba - wait," Constanze froze, her palm open on the door. Her face dropped from anger to confusion, "Who are you?" she sneered, looking back over her shoulder at her now quiet husband who seemed to be lost in his own world.

"I - um, Ludwig Van Beethoven ma'am." Ludwig bowed in an awkward formality, "Why are you here?" she raised an eyebrow, placing a hand on her hip daring the boy to lie. Ludwig's eyes widened, why was he here? After last night he was sure he'd be on his way home by now, and with all this heated arguing, he actually wished he was!

"I am studying composition with your husband, madam." he offered quietly, clasping his hands respectfully behind his back. Constanze scoffed and spun back towards her husband who was pacing on the woven rug near the keyboard, gnawing his nails down to the quick. "Any other surprises Wolfgang?" she asked condescendingly, gathering her skirts, to which he did not reply. "You'll be lucky if you see us at the premier. Make sure this one isn't another failure, will you? Karl and I are counting on it."

Wolfgang bowed his head meekly as she stormed out in a fury, slamming the apartment door on her way out hard enough to knock a portrait from the wall. Ludwig stood silently in shock, what had just happened? He had so many questions, but it was clear now was not the time to ask. In the immediate aftermath Wolfgang said nothing, he simply walked over to the door his wife had slammed shut and placed his hand longingly on the ornate metal handle. He seemed to stare at it for an unnerving amount of time, making Ludwig wonder if he was even still in this world or if he had retreated somewhere else, perhaps he had lost himself in the deep recesses of his own mind. 

He wanted to say something, to reach out to him - but instead, he only waited. Watching Wolfgang struggle with whatever it was that was going through his head terrified him. It was too real. Seeing his habitually happy face turned upside down in a weak and doleful expression made Ludwig's chest ache. This was his hero - the greatest musician in all of Vienna - everything his father had hoped he would become, reduced to nothing more than a short man with a big nose and sad eyes. His heart broke a little, seeing Mozart made so small.

"Come, we're going out." Wolfgang murmured in a soft voice, reaching for his overcoat that hung by the door. Lifting his eyes to meet Ludwig's, a small smile tugged at his forlorn expression when the boy finally nodded in quiet accord. 

"Yes Maestro" Ludwig whispered obediently, slipping into his coat and turning the collar upwards. 

"Thank God for you" Wolfgang smiled weakly at him as he opened the apartment door, placing his hand on the small of the boy's back and ushering him out onto the landing. Those few words made Ludwig's heart flutter, even though he knew what the Maestro really meant. 

Ludwig dug his chin into his coat and smiled to himself, despite everything that had happened - he knew in that moment that he was wanted. 

He was needed.


	4. Drown Your Sorrows

It was no surprise to Ludwig that the pair of them ended up in a tavern in some seedy part of town. One that was tucked beneath street level, found only by following a questionable set of cobble steps that seemed to sink down into the depths of the virtual hell below.

The stench of the place had made Ludwig wretch when they first arrived. Wolfgang only laughed enthusiastically and slapped him on the back. "You'll get used to it - don't worry." he grinned slyly, watching the boy cough into his handkerchief in disgust. In the dank and dimly lit facility there was little to do other than drink warm, stale brew and gnaw on sinewy pork. Most of it more bone than meal. This did not seem to bother the Maestro, who appeared to be more at home here than at his own abode. 

Conveniently various members of the orchestra filtered in an out of the bar that afternoon and well into the early evening. It appeared to be a theatre man's favourite, with the majority of the attending crowd seeming to be involved in the Maestro's latest production. They provided a never ending stream of entertainment for the increasingly intoxicated genius. By night fall he swayed happily on his barstool, conducting an imaginary aria with a thin piece of pork bone acting as his baton. The horn players hooted and jeered at his impersonations of the prima donnas and their diva personalities, slapping their meaty thighs and clenching smoking pipes between their blackened teeth. Ludwig leaned heavily on the bar rail, watching the slow demise of this great man. He was vexed by these so-called companions who seemed to be taking advantage of the Maestro's generosity. Perhaps more generous than usual considering his mounting inebriation. Was that the fifth round he agreed to? Or the sixth? Ludwig had lost count some time ago. He toyed with his mostly full stein out of boredom, he was ready to go home to bed. 

One of the more rowdy members of the ensemble had unfortunately made a reappearance, bursting through the front doors and announcing his return in a booming sing-song voice - much to Mozart's delight. The Maestro grinned sloppily and applauded the raucous entrance. Ludwig groaned quietly to himself and frowned when he saw that the unattractively stout man was now accompanied by a gaggle of suggestively dressed young ladies. How revolting!

"Maestro Mozart" he belched repulsively, pulling the cluster of girls out from behind him proudly, "May I introduce you to my newest friends...." Mozart's eyes sparkled wickedly and he suddenly sat much straighter. "A pleasure, madam...?" he slid off his stool and bowed as sweepingly as would be intended for any duchesse or princess. Ludwig rolled his eyes at the dramatic show, growing rather irritated with the Maestro's reprehensible behaviour as of late. They had been out all day and it was surely time for them to be on their way home now...

"Miss Sophia, Herr Mozart" The sweet girl, of no more than Ludwig's own age curtsied on wobbling heels. It was clear she had little practice in formal introductions. "Miss Sophia..." Mozart murmured to himself drunkenly, immediately mesmerized by her charms. He took her tiny, porcelain hand into his own and kissed it, making her blush and giggle most attractively. She may be young, but this was not her first. Ludwig grumbled to himself, more than a little jealous of the attention she so easily attracted from the composer. 

Quietly watching him flirt with the girl, Ludwig couldn't help but become a little resentful. He had followed him here, stayed with him all night watching him try to drown his problems in drink - and for what? To watch him make another stupid mistake? Perhaps Constanze was right, Herr Mozart needed to grow up - and he needed to do so very quickly!

"You are very pretty Miss Sophia...." he staggered slightly, bracing himself against a wall. The man could barely walk straight, let alone know what he was doing. Ludwig stared down into his ale, seeing his own unhappy face staring right back. He leaned against his hand, keeping lazy watch over Wolfgang from the corner of his eye. After awhile, he realized he no longer heard the sound of Wolfgang's voice - had he left? Ludwig craned his neck to search the room, finding his Maestro now wrapped in the arms of that red headed trollop, his hand right up under her skirts as she squealed happily.

Enough. 

Ludwig leapt off his chair, and strode over to the philandering fool. "HEY!" he barked angrily, grabbing Wolfgang's arm perhaps a little harder than he had planned, as suggested by the painful wince on his face as he was ripped away from the panting harlot who seemed none too pleased. "Come on Maestro," he grunted as he heaved the drooping older man across his own shoulders, "It's time to go home." 

"Oh Ludwig!...." he smiled crookedly, "There you are!" 

"Have you met my friend Sophia?...." Wolfgang babbled as Ludwig practically dragged him out of the tavern, rolling his eyes as he went. It would be long walk home.

 

____________________

 

Once back at the apartment, Ludwig unceremoniously dropped the Maestro onto the divan. He was exhausted, his arms and legs were trembling from the effort - who knew such a small man could weigh so much? Ludwig groaned as he leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath. He looked to Wolfgang who was already drifting in and out of consciousness, a stupid dazed grinned plastered across his face. Ludwig shook his head and closed his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose in a effort to regain his rhythm.

"Tired?" Wolfgang called from the couch, making Ludwig lift his eyes to catch the sudden soberness of his question.

"Yes Herr Mozart" He admitted honestly, though not admitting why - it was not his place to chastise his Master, though he wished he could.

"Hmm, me too." He mumbled, shifting onto his back and folding his arms onto his chest peacefully, "Would you play me something?"

Ludwig scowled, "Play...you something?" at this hour? The man was mad!

"Yes, something sweet. I'd very much like to hear you play. It would help me sleep." He turned to plead in his murky, alcohol fuelled stupor. Ludwig bowed his head, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. Did he have any reason to deny him? With a heavy sigh he slinked over to the keyboard, running his hand soothingly over the lid. He needs you now Ludwig, he told himself. With a frown he tucked the lid back and let his hands fall naturally over the keys. He would play his first sonata, the one in E flat - with the gentle second movement. He'd not yet shown that one to the Maestro, as he was afraid of what he might say. Too immature a composition perhaps? He supposed this was the better way to introduce it.

Playing the soft melody allowed his mind to wander, his fingers dancing expertly over the keys - immersed in their own gentle ballet. He'd done this many times before, but never for an audience of this calibre. He tried to remain focused but struggled as his thoughts drifted to all of the confusion of the past few days. What a mess, he mourned - feeling his fingers slip to a missed chord. He froze, checking over his shoulder for any kind of reaction. Nothing.

Mozart was out, lulled by Ludwig's sensitive playing into a deep sleep. Ludwig raised a prurient eyebrow at the sleeping form, his face softened by slumber, his chest rising gently, his soft lashes grazing his cheeks. It was then that Beethoven realized how beautiful he truly was, almost feminine, with his delicate features. His belly lurched desirously and he gripped the back of the chair. "Maestro?" he called to him tentatively, but there was no reply.

Just then, a wicked thought crept into his mind, making him chew his bottom lip and grin. He continued to eye the sleeping man for awhile longer, contemplating his lecherous idea. Glancing at the clock on the mantel, well past two in the morning, he was surely in a deep sleep, not easily woken - Beethoven reasoned with himself. He rose quietly, creeping closer to the edge of the divan, leaning dangerously low over the Maestro's sleeping form. He was debating his chances. Deciding against his better judgement, Ludwig steeled himself and bravely leaned down to kiss him. This was so much more than the first time. This time he kissed deeply, lingering perhaps longer than he should have. He savoured it, allowing his eyes to flutter closed, to inhale his heady scent and melt into the softness of those rosy lips. He shuddered gingerly as he pulled away, smiling to himself satisfactorily. He rested on his elbows for a moment before finally pulling himself up to his feet. It was late and he was long overdue for some rest. He pinched out the last of the candles as he made his way to the hall, heading back to his own room. The Maestro could spend the night on the sofa, no harm done.

Giddy with his own adventure, Ludwig tiptoed away, freezing only to hear that familiar tenor murmur sleepily, "Good night Ludwig." 

Ludwig's eyes nearly bulged out of his head and he ran the rest of the way to his bed - quickly diving under the covers and burying his face in the pillows in both delight and horror.


	5. Mistaken Identity

Ludwig tossed and turned on the lumpy straw mattress, burying his face in his pillow in a half hearted attempt to smother himself right then. If he simply died in his sleep, then he would not have to face the Maestro come morning, right?... He frowned, coiling himself up into a feeble ball. Pressing a pillow between his teeth he let out a muffled cry, squeezing his eyes shut in frustration. Maybe Herr Mozart drank enough at the pub to forget everything and by dawn and he will have no memory of the kiss.  
  
Ludwig flopped on to his back hopelessly, stretching out his limbs with an exasperated sigh.  He stared up into the dark nothingness of the room and listened intently but there was nothing, not a sound to be heard. Mozart was surely asleep. He scolded himself for his wandering mind, soon it would be dawn and he had not slept a wink! He pressed his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes. He was struggling. He was at odds with his own thoughts - with his own heart. What exactly was going on with him and why couldn't he get these desirous thoughts of this man out of his head?  
  
Ludwig was certain that his growing infatuation could not be more obvious to the Maestro. Worse still, he was also aware that it was becoming obvious to others as well, which made it all the more difficult for Ludwig to concentrate. Suddenly every word, every laugh - every brush of his hand would induce a heated blush, and what's more, it lit a smouldering fire in the pit of his belly. His infectious smile, his gentle touch as he reached over the keys of the piano to correct him - that was all it took to fan the growing ache of need in Ludwig's core. It was a terrifying,  desperate need that he had not known before.  
  
It was true that Ludwig had some experience in the company of women even at his tender age, in fact, he'd even been so bold as to have kissed a few! But to have such feelings burning in his belly, sparked by the closeness of another man? He felt much shame and confusion in this, but also -  much urgency and longing. There was no one to trust in matters such as these, and so, he was trying to find his own path to understanding.  
  
It was as if every time Mozart came near, Ludwig was suddenly under some sort of spell. His words would fail to speak, his hands would tremble, he'd suddenly start to sweat and become dizzy. He wanted to answer the Maestro when questioned, but no words would come! When he played for him, his fingers would slip and technical mistakes he had not made since childhood would surface embarrassingly - making Ludwig scowl and Mozart chuckle. If he knew anything of Ludwig's deplorable thoughts, Herr Mozart certainly did not show it and for that, Ludwig was grateful.  
  
And what now? A kiss - twice over. The second was certainly no accident and the Maestro would understandably be furious once he came to his senses in the morning. No matter what explanation Ludwig teased out in his mind, there was no sound reasoning for what he had done. It had been obvious, deliberate and unsolicited. For once, Ludwig cursed his uncompromising sense of determination. This time he had gone too far.  
  
Ludwig's self admonishment was interrupted by the gentle groan of the door swinging open, which was followed by the sound of its carved metal handle thumping against the wall. "Maestro?" the startled young man murmured sleepily in confusion. If Ludwig had been asleep at any point before now -  he was now most definitely awake! It was too dark to tell if this unannounced visitor was indeed the Maestro, but by the rather forward intrusion, Ludwig could only surmise. Nonetheless, he fumbled, feeling blindly in an effort to light the candle at his bedside.  
  
Where was that damned match? Blast!  
  
Unable to strike the quick of the candle with shaking hands it was only through a softened hush, a drunken hiccup and a dreamy chuckle that Ludwig was able to confirm Herr Mozart's presence as he swayed and staggered his way to the edge of the bed.  "Not Maestro...." warm hands patted and stumbled to find Ludwig's own, squeezing his palms appreciatively, "it's Wolfie". Ludwig's palms were lifted to stubbled cheeks, held pressed to his skin as Wolfgang nuzzled and worshipped what he had captured, "It's Wolfie..." he repeated sloppily before kissing each wrist most delicately. Ludwig's eyes widened as he was rendered completely immobile. He was defenceless,  his body frozen in utter stupefaction. His heart began to beat so rapidly that he feared it may burst out of his chest, he was unable to move - barely able to breathe.  
  
 Feeling the edge of the bed sink down under the weight of another, Ludwig sensed that Herr Mozart was kneeling on the covers, "Have you not learned to share? Move over..." he drunkenly chastised the boy, digging up the covers to make room for himself, "Maestro?" Ludwig squeaked in disbelief, ignoring the limbs that bumped and tangled with his own as he settled in beside him, "No.." Mozart corrected patiently, despite his obvious intoxication, "It's Wolfie." Ludwig swallowed nervously feeling  a pair of lithe arms snaking around his middle, a warm body pressing itself against his side leaving him no room for escape.  
  
"I.." His mouth opened in protest, but it was a failed attempt. Wolfgang nuzzled affectionately against his neck, breathing deeply with a satisfied groan, "You smell pretty Stanzi." Ludwig's cheeks burned and it was almost as if his heart had stopped. Stanzi? He frowned.  
  
"Ludwig" He managed to choke out in correction.  
  
"Mmm - Ludwig." the Maestro chuckled and smiled against his neck, "Of course - the kissing boy." Even in his astonishing state of inebriation, he was still able to tease the boy rather mercilessly.  Ludwig's stomach twisted nervously, suddenly feeling very ill. "Don't worry - I like kissing...." Mozart hummed happily, pressing his lips along the soft skin of his neck. Ludwig instinctively shied away but was held fast by a pair of arms much stronger than one would imagine for a man of such small stature. His escape attempts were met with a sort of whine, a childish sounding grunt of opposition. "No, please stay!" Wolfgang begged in a pathetic voice, squeezing Ludwig possessively, "I'm lonely..." he admitted in a defeated tone, surely in an attempt to gain sympathy.    
  
Ludwig lay still, allowing Mozart to nuzzle against him. He had never been this close to another before and it felt strange. He was able to feel the scratchy stubble along his jaw as he was kissed, his thin frame was wiry, yet somehow it seemed soft. The rough texture of his under shirt and breeches slid along Ludwig's bare chest, the feel of it making him shiver, his hair standing on end.  That familiar feeling of tension began to pool in his middle, he prayed to God that the Maestro's hands would not wander...  
  
Wolfgang's hair smelled of lavender powder, though he had not worn his wig to the tavern that evening - the subtle floral scent made Ludwig smile. "Do you like being kissed?" Wolfgang murmured in a sultry whisper as he planted feathered caresses along the boy's throat and jaw. Ludwig bit his lip to keep from whimpering, choosing not to respond, instead tilting his head  to allow him to travel to the base of his neck.  The older man laughed under his breath, tracing along Ludwig's knee to the front of his breeches, where Ludwig's interest was most obvious. "I suppose this would translate as a yes..." came the knowing smirk. Ludwig was mortified, having been touched so intimately by someone he admired. He grabbed Wolfgang's hand, unsure of what else to do. "I..." he started in protest, he was conflicted - was this not what he wanted, what he craved?   
  
Mozart sighed, wrenching his hand free and pushing Ludwig onto his back. "Listen - " he said with sudden sobriety, pulling himself up to straddle the younger man. He smiled to himself, seeing Ludwig staring back up at him in a heart breaking mix of confusion, terror and lust. He cupped his cheek affectionately and tucked a few loose strands behind his ear. Ludwig stilled under him, his breathing slowing as Wolfgang searched his widened eyes curiously. He was transfixed. He could not peel his eyes off of this man, his sandy blonde hair spilling down about his shoulders, his linen shirt open to the navel, the weight of him on his....well. Ludwig blinked slowly. He was glorious.  
  
"Relax" Wolfgang pressed a finger to the boy's lips with a salacious smile, "Let the Maestro teach you a lesson."  
  
Ludwig nervously sat up onto his elbows watching Wolfgang begin to work - travelling carefully down his belly to the top of his breeches. He whimpered as the Maestro palmed him, assessing his need. "You're doing well so far" he encouraged, unbuttoning his waist and working to free the boy from his clothing. "We really must do away with these, come now - " Wolfgang said in a matter of fact tone, removing the offending clothing as if it were any menial task. Ludwig hesitated as the last of his clothing was finally pulled from his legs and thrown to the floor in a tangled mess. He was now naked, with nothing to cover his - anything. He bent his knees in an effort towards modesty, making Wolfgang laugh.  
  
"Really - you think I have not seen one?" He crawled over him, allowing his hands to squeeze and run along his newly exposed thighs, "You're perfect, not to worry." He added in a whisper, kissing him on his forehead endearingly. "Allow me..." he grinned, leaning on a bent elbow, facing the flustered boy. Ludwig allowed the skilled hands to travel along his skin, exploring the curves and edges in fascination. Of course those hands spent considerable time relishing his most obvious sign of interest, which made him blush and whimper. "Herr Mozart - " he balked, the foreign hands on him, stroking him, it as a new but albeit exciting sensation.  
  
"Shh - " Mozart hushed him sweetly, kissing him to mute the babbling "Relax..."  
  
Ludwig could not relax if his life depended on it! It was all he could do not to burst in his hand. He was not ready for this! He suppressed a moan as he felt a thumb smooth over the slickened tip, squeezing down the length to the base again. He let his mouth open, a small pant escaping his lips with a powerful shudder of his belly. "You're even more impressive than I imagined." Wolfgang coaxed in a husky voice, nipping the soft skin below his ear. His kisses were in a dizzying rhythm with his torturous strokes. "Very...Impressive" He smiled against his neck, his words making the boy shiver. He could barely stand it, he weakly thrusted up to meet Wolfgang's hand, small whimpers punctuating his movements. He was close. Very close.  
  
He winced almost painfully, his toes curling as Wolfgang met his every need. Oh God everything about this felt so right, but yet?..  
  
"Maestro - " Ludwig opened his eyes, beginning to panic. He did not want to -

Oh no.  
  
He came in spasms, bucking desperately into Wolfgang's hand, for the moment - uncaring for the shock, mess or embarrassment of the result. Tremors rocked his body.  He fell back against the pillow, his eyes glazed over from the high, panting in a dizzying haze. Wolfgang hummed softly and stroked his belly soothingly, gazing at him through hooded eyes. "Very good" he encouraged with a lazy drawl, wiping his hand on the mess of sheets. "We'll work on it a little more." He said with a sudden yawn, "But it's late now." Ludwig lay in shocked silence, staring up at the ceiling, his breathing slowing as his head spun.  
  
"Late?" He frowned, did the hour even matter in a moment like this?  
  
"We have rehearsal tomorrow - you need to rest." Wolfgang grumbled and scooted closer to the boy, pulling the covers up over them both and snuggling up against his side. "Good night dear Ludwig." he whispered in his ear before kissing him rather chastely on the cheek. "Sleep."  
  
Ludwig remained awake for some time, listening to Wolfgang's breath come slow and steady. He was sure the Maestro had fallen asleep, this time for good. He turned to sneak a glance at him in the dark, his face nearly pressed into the crook of Ludwig's neck. He smiled to himself and turned back, allowing his eyes to finally close and sleep to overtake them both.  
  
He could figure the rest out come morning.

 

 

 

 

 


	6. A Family Man

When Ludwig woke up the next morning, the bed seemed much colder. He was alone. He frowned a little at the realization before stretching his arms above his head and wiggling his toes. It felt good to finally uncurl his limbs, having been tucked up tightly all night in an effort to keep himself from falling off the edge of the narrow bed. Though he was a small man, Herr Mozart took up a surprising amount of room in his sleep.

It was the first time Ludwig had ever shared a bed with anyone other than his younger brothers back home. It was a strange but exciting sensation - having arms wrapped around his middle and warm breath against his neck while he slept. It was almost, soothing? The closeness of it reminded him of home, being tucked in amongst his two brothers like sardines in a can -  and yet, it also held a seductive quality which made him feel sinfully guilty.

After all, it was only innocent sleep - no?

There was something about the adultness of it that he adored. It was almost if we woke up more of a man today than he was the day before. That alluring warmth, and the sensuality of another body pressed wholly against his own. It made Ludwig blush, even now while alone. He smiled to himself before throwing off the covers and letting his bare feet dangle over the edge of the bed, toeing the floor with a certain melancholy.   
  
Just then, the sudden sound of the door opening made Ludwig jump and scramble back under the covers timidly. If it were the maid, should she not know to knock? His heart quickened, he prayed it wasn't the return of the fire breathing dragon. Herr Mozart's wife coming back to confront him for what he'd done. Perhaps he had told her everything and she was determined to see him out. Considering his current lack of clothing, he really didn't feel like explaining, or providing fodder for common gossip.   
  
Seeing a familiar halo of fair coloured locks and a cheeky smirk, Ludwig sighed in relief falling back against the pillow. "Still in bed at this hour?" Wolfgang teased, peering through the open door cautiously. He was unsure of the state of dress he'd find the boy in. To be fair, it was nearly 11 in the morning and the day's rehearsal was set for noon. He was due to be up by now if was to be of any use at all. The room smelled stale - of sweat and bodies. The sweet hint of love shared hung thickly in the air, evidence from the night before. The familiar scent made Mozart hum reflectively. He wasn't exactly clear on the details but with his own experience on the subject, he could surely guess.

"No - I, well ... I will dress quickly Maestro!" Ludwig stuttered, his cheeks burning instantly from the awkwardness of begin caught still in bed so late in the day. He knew the Maestro honoured productivity above all else, sleeping little and working long hours in an effort to deliver his music to the world. No one could accuse Herr Mozart of being lazy, in actuality, he was likely the hardest working man the boy had ever met. He had certainly set a very high standard for efficiency not only for himself - but for those around him, the young Ludwig included.

Mozart smiled at him, crossing his arms with an air nonchalance and disbelief. He was already well awake and obviously had been for some time. He was beautifully outfitted in gold and red, his favourite colours - and Ludwig was sure the garment was of new design. Had he ever seen that one before? He doubted. His costumier must have delivered it early this morning, newly stitched. To finish the look, his hair was perfectly coiffed and tied neatly with a dark ribbon at the nape of his neck. In all, the Maestro looked rather dashing in his tailored jacket and his satin breeches. Everything was cut to perfection, the gold buttons gleamed, and that satin - well, it left little to the imagination. He mentally ran the sums, it must have cost a small fortune for him to achieve that look! With so few pupils and only the promise of an upcoming premier, Ludwig was curious how the Maestro could fund all of his noble tastes while supporting his young family and paying rent on an apartment in such a notable part of town.

Ludwig chewed his lip nervously, his thoughts wandering. He meekly lifted his eyes to meet Mozart's questioning golden eyebrow. He quickly averted his gaze shyly, berating himself, he shouldn't question the Maestro's accounting. He was the Master of the house, and what was he by comparison? He was still in bed with rumpled sheets and a sticky mess on his belly from the night before! Would he ever gain the upper hand?

"Quickly, we haven't got all day." Wolfgang waved him off, closing the door behind him. He could hear the click Mozart's heels as he disappeared down the hall, talking nonsense and whistling rather impressively, much to the delight of his caged starling who began to whistle back in response. Ludwig stared at the door, fascinated. There was still so much to learn about that man! Ludwig shook his head and quickly leapt out of bed, making a patch work outfit of whatever mostly clean clothes he could find. He could wash later.  
  
At the theatre, Herr Mozart was all business. Greeted by adoring friends and admirers, he smiled and nodded, kissing each one on the cheek as per the custom. He paid the necessary compliments to his leading ladies, who fanned themselves and giggled in delight. Ludwig watched in amazement, how that little man he could work a crowd to his advantage. He could melt a singer's heart, light a fire under the fingers of a musician, and speak as knowledgably as any choreographer.

He was able to command an army of wayward thespians to perform with as much precision, regiment and esteem as any royal cavalry. He rehearsed them fiercely for hours on end, rarely taking rest. He was unforgiving of even the slightest error or misstep, and could throw a violent tantrum on a moment's notice if things were not perfect. His ear was impeccable, and his eye was just as keen. The artists forgave his temper as they knew they were all part of something much greater than themselves, and he fed them on that dream. They worked like dogs for him, and they loved every minute of it. On stage, his word was God.

It was nearly 8 o'clock in the evening and Wolfgang was caught up in a screaming match with an unwieldy tenor who refused to sing a newly inked aria. He claimed it "impossible" and he dared admonish Mozart for writing such a wretched work. It was no surprise that the Maestro took immediate offense, calling the vocalist nothing but a lowly coward and a half wit, his most recent string of insults being slandered out in the most fluent Italian. He barked at him from the podium, his fists balled angrily on his hips as the singer shot back from the edge of the stage. Ludwig sat with chin resting on folded arms, eyebrows raised at the spectacle. A man that could curse in several languages, he tried not to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. Just then, he noticed a small boy of no more than knee height toddling up to the livid conductor. Ludwig glowered at the child as it made his way to stand at Herr Mozart's side, who released that little urchin in to this rehearsal?  
  
"Stronzo!" Wolfgang growled loudly at the singer who's jaw dropped in disgust, finally offended enough to walk right off the stage, disappearing into the dressing rooms in a fit of rage.  
  
"Papa!" the tiny little hands reached up expectantly, startling the fuming conductor.   
  
"Ah my little bambino!" Mozart's expression instantly melted, kneeling down to lift the child to his hip, "Dove è mamma? Where is mamma?" He switched between languages, obviously still partially stuck in the heat of the moment. The little boy pointed silently to a brooding figure of a woman in the doorway to the theatre, glaring angrily at Wolfgang from a distance. "Bella mamma!" He murmured as he bounced the boy happily, ignoring whatever ill feelings were being cast his way.  
  
"Herr Mozart - shall we finish this scene?" Called the concertmaster tentatively from the violin section, the entire cast was on edge from the heated debacle. With opening night only two days away, and a fuming leading role walking off stage - the artists were understandably tense. Mozart turned back to the stage with a look of distant confusion on his face - as if he was unsure as to why any of them were even there in the first place. "No - no, it's alright. I think we can end here for today." He waved them off, turning back to the child with a ridiculously silly face that made him squeal with delight. He was no longer Maestro Mozart, but instead, Papa.   
  
The orchestra and singers began to pack their things, grumbling under their breath as they watched the Maestro wander off as if nothing was amiss. He drifted past Ludwig who had been seated in the middle row of the theatre, observing the proceedings in silence. "Come." He nodded towards the exit, "Time to go home." Glancing towards Constanze hesitantly, Ludwig swallowed thickly. He wasn't exactly thrilled to see her again and he was more than a little apprehensive to return home to the platz with the Mozart family, now being the odd one out.   
  
The walk home was to be expected, now relegated to follow behind, Ludwig observed the husband and wife as they strolled side by side, the young boy still perched on his father's hip. He rested his head on Wolfgang's shoulder, watching Ludwig inquisitively as he trailed behind. Ludwig occasionally glanced up to see the shining blue eyes twinkling at him. The boy would giggle and smile shyly. He noted the child's similar features, the fine hair, the eyes, even his smiling disposition. He was quite like his father. Ludwig wondered if he would possess any of the same skill?   
  
Once home, the boy ran free - headed immediately for a pile of wooden blocks which had been scattered underneath the piano, likely an earlier play session while the Maestro was in rehearsal. "Karl - not too far darling, dinner is nearly ready!" the maid cooed to him as she carried a heavy porringer through the room, headed straight for the dining table which was already set. Karl.  
  
Mozart had failed to introduce them.

Regardless, Ludwig would not forget the name.   
  
"Herr Beethoven." Wolfgang's voice called from the next room, snapping Ludwig's attention from his child gazing.  
  
"Yes?" He clasped his hands behind his back, now suddenly conscious of his earlier decision not to wash.  Had he expected to end up dining with Frau Mozart and his son, he would have taken a little more care...  
  
"Dinner - come, you've met my darling wife, Stanzi?" He gestured the boy into the room, pulling a chair for him in a dramatic show of formality that threw Ludwig for a loop. Things suddenly felt very...distant. He slowly lowered himself onto the chair, eyeing Constanze carefully who in turn, seemed to be doing the same. What did she know?  
  
"Yes Wolfie - he was here before, remember?" She rolled her eyes and sighed, "Just sit down!" Mozart snatched young Karl as he ran passed, lifting him deftly into the remaining empty chair, conveniently sandwiched between Ludwig and his Papa, "Monkey..." he cooed as the boy squirmed, portioning food onto his plate. Ludwig watched the interaction between father and son with heart breaking envy. He had never known that kind of love, how warm it must be. He felt intense jealousy towards them both. Wife and child - for they had been able to capture what, so far, Ludwig could not.   
  
For the majority of the dinner, Ludwig remained silent. Listening to them banter about nothing of significance, daily activities and generally drudgery. It was nothing like the heated conversations the Maestro had him had shared about politics or free thought. Debates over cards or shared grand illusions, fantasized late at night over drink. It was if the man Ludwig knew had been transformed before his very eyes. He buried his disappointment by watching Karl dissect his meal, barely able to clutch his spoon. He smiled down at him, wishing to be that innocent again, free from the turmoil of adulthood. He sighed, the noise of it catching the boy's attention who glanced up at him and smiled. He reminded Ludwig of his own younger brothers and for a brief moment, he felt a choking sadness.   
  
"Ludwig?"  
  
The sound of the Maestro's voice caught him day dreaming once again, "I'm sorry Maestro" he blinked, seeing the suggestive smiled spreading across Wolfgang's face, "I said, do you mind watching Karl for a moment?" Ludwig glanced at the child and then back to the Maestro with a baffled look, "Er...of course? No problem at all."  
  
"Good, good. He's not much of a bother, maybe you can play with him or something? He likes it when you play the piano." Wolfgang ruffled the boy's hair affectionately before winking at Ludwig, "I'll be back later." he whispered lowly, following after his wife who had already made her exit.   
  
Ludwig frowned, now piecing together the situation. He had not heard the previous discussion as he had been fully absorbed in his own thoughts. He should have known this would have been a likely situation, they were after all, man and wife. Ludwig looked sadly towards the boy who was chewing on a piece of bread contentedly, his chubby legs swinging from the chair. "I guess it's just you and me Karl..." he muttered sadly, not expecting much of a response.  
  
"Ludwig!" the boy clapped in reply with a bright smile. Ludwig was taken aback by the enthusiastic response, and he even knew his name? Smart lad. Ludwig smiled happily, lifting him from the chair and carrying him over to the piano.  
  
"Your Papa told me you like piano" he sat the child on his lap, allowing his tiny fingers to explore the keys. He began smashing out little dissonant chords haphazardly.  "Ah yes, very modern..." Ludwig chuckled, wincing at the brash noise which seemed to delight the boy who was now in hysterics. "Now...sshh, hey -" he stilled the little hands in an effort to lower the noise level, but he immediately regretted it when he instead heard muffled giggles and sighs of passion from the next room.  Ludwig grimaced and gritted his teeth in annoyance. There were times, he thought bitterly, that he wished he could not hear at all.

"Your Papa is busy, so I guess I'll have to teach you." He sighed, placing the tiny hand over the glistening keys. Karl was happy to sit at the keyboard for the better part of an hour. His level of concentration for child of such a young age was astounding. It was clear to Ludwig that the boy had a musical ear and there was certainly a marked trainability in his fingers, a necessary requirement for any future pianist.   
  
By late evening, Karl was fast asleep - the maid had come to take him to bed, leaving Ludwig alone with his thoughts. What was he to do? Well, there was a lot to think about wasn't there?  
  
"Hey - you're still awake?" Wolfgang paused on his way through the sitting room some hours later, looking rather run through. He was wearing only a thin night shirt and his hair was standing wildly on end. Ludwig looked to him with sad eyes, not knowing what to say. For once, he couldn't care less that the Maestro was barely clothed. In fact, he could not care less about the Maestro in general. To Hell with him! He was angry - but, mostly sad. Ludwig had finally realized that he would always be wishing for something that he simply could not have.

Wolfgang stared at him, registering that there was something very troubling on the young man's mind. His normally serious face was downturned in what looked like terrible anguish and his eyes were desperately trying to communicate words Wolfgang knew he would never be able to speak. "What is it? Are you alright?" Ludwig blinked in an effort to stave off bitter tears but the quiver in his chin gave it all away. He quickly wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve, turning away to avoid further embarrassment.   
  
"Oh dear, Ludwig - what's the matter?" Wolfgang quickly approached him all formality lost, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. His voice was honest and sweet, which made Ludwig want to cry even more for the injustice of it all. And here he was again, unable to speak - unable to express anything at all. The Maestro was listening, but he could not produce. All he had were tears. The thought that Ludwig could not control his own emotions made him tremble with anger, he just didn't know what to do. What was he supposed to say? "It's all right, I'm sure?" Wolfgang comforted feebly, squeezing the boy's heaving shoulders but he wretched himself away, to Mozart's surprise.  
  
"No - no it's not alright!" He grunted angrily, wiping his reddened cheeks, his eyes were burning. "What could possibly be so terrible?" Mozart smiled hopefully, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion.   
  
Ludwig gritted his teeth and mulled over his response for a moment, tears still silently rolling down his face, he decided he had little to lose. At this point - he couldn't feel any lower, so he might as well confess what he was sure Mozart already suspected. "I'm in love with you" he muttered in quiet defeat, bowing his head and drawing a ragged breath.   
  
The answer came in silence, which broke Ludwig's heart though deep down he had known what the answer was going to be. Wolfgang frowned, reaching out to pet his tangled hair soothingly, before finally cradling the boy's face against his middle, looking skywards, perhaps for an answer?  
  
He hushed the boy, running his fingers through his hair affectionately, "I know..." he murmured, "I know."


	7. The Matchmaker

Poor Ludwig had been virtually inconsolable that night as Wolfgang cradled his head in his arms. He had not confessed much in detail, but what he had revealed was of no surprise to the Maestro. He knew from the instant they met that there was something different about that boy. The way he looked at him with those sad dark eyes, how he blushed when addressed by name and how when he walked he always followed close enough behind, but never brave enough to stand side by side.

It was clear that Ludwig viewed Wolfgang as the Master, and he, the submissive pupil. It was as if he was a sort of lost puppy, hoping to be taken in by the nearest passerby. He yearned to be shown mercy and he was desperate for validation and affection. Mozart did feel mostly responsible for the boy's heartache, but what was he to do about it? It's not like he had asked for this, nor had he encouraged it. Had he? He couldn't blame Ludwig for his feelings either, in fact, Mozart was rather flattered by the attention. He had to admit that the boy also had his own merits and was, in his own shy way, rather charming.

He shifted for what was likely the millionth time that night, turning towards his sleeping wife who lay visibly pregnant at his side. He was married - he had a child! This whole adolescent romance was simply nonsense, the boy was here to learn to be a musician. He was here to be under his artistic guidance, to assist with technical matters when needed and mostly, to stay out of the way. Perhaps it was time that Wolfgang arranged for other opportunities for Ludwig to get out of the house. Perhaps he was missing that social element in his life. He needed friends! A young man should be out on the town, gallivanting and having a good time - not holed up in some dank servant's quarters writing mediocre sonatas and dances. Though his compositions were coming along quite nicely...Mozart smiled to himself, silently commending his own musical influence on the boy.  
  
Regardless - Mozart had resolved to find Ludwig a friend, and even better, a woman friend. That would surely put an end to this pining and it would allow both of them to get on with their lives. Closing his eyes, he sighed in relief having found what he believed to be the ultimate solution to this problem. Tomorrow morning he planned to dress Ludwig in his finest clothing, have his friseur style the boy's hair and send him in to rehearsal ready to be eaten alive by the young ladies of the chorus. He knew just the Barbarina to set on him! Frau Gottlieb was a most delightful young soprano and she would surely pay dear Ludwig special attention if the Maestro so requested it. Wolfgang knew it was he that Anna was truly interested in, but Ludwig would make a wonderful second prize - especially if Wolfgang was the one pushing her towards him. How could she deny her Maestro's request? She could not, and therefore, she would be perfect. Mozart finally fell asleep with a smug grin on his face. Tomorrow would be glorious.  
  
Early the next day, even before sunrise, Ludwig was shocked awake as the blankets were crudely ripped from his bed. He was left trembling in the cold, only his nightshirt to cover him. "Guten Morgen Herr Beethoven!" Wolfgang's voice was like nails on a chalkboard so early in the morning, the enthusiastic volume of which made Ludwig jump in sudden fright. He was completely disoriented, had Mozart gone raving mad?  
  
"Today is a very important day - it's the dress rehearsal and we have much to do. You must get up, my coiffure is coming and you must have your shirt on before he arrives." Throwing open the small armoire that Ludwig had been keeping his menial wardrobe in, Mozart frowned scratching his chin. "Is this all you brought with you from home?" he fingered the small number of linen shirts skeptically. Ludwig hugged his knees to his chest, trying to keep his teeth from chattering due to the sudden chill of being unceremoniously striped of his covers. He shrugged indifferently, why does it matter how many shirts a man owns?  
  
"Coiffure....?" Ludwig raised his eyebrows in disbelief, "Yes - for your ....hair" Wolfgang gestured with a grimace towards Ludwig's mess of chocolate locks, "Something must be done about that!" Ludwig sighed and rested his chin on his knees watching Wolfgang dig through his clothing making faces of disgust as he went.   
  
"And this! What is this?" he pulled a plain coat from the bottom of the wardrobe. It had fallen from the hook and was now miserably wrinkled. It was brown, with plain buttons and no ornate trim of any kind. It was rather unremarkable, aside from the dozens of ink stains along the cuffs and the loose threads that threatened to give way at the shoulder. Most definitely not a jacket that would be found in any closet of Wolfgang Mozart.   
  
"...A jacket?" Ludwig answered pathetically, unsure as to what Mozart was doing picking through his clothing, especially before dawn! "Oh dear Ludwig, we can do much better than this...." Wolfgang held the jacket at arm's length with his nose upturned, almost as if it held some form of contagious disease. Ludwig frowned, "Let me find you something more appropriate, as the assistant to the Maestro." he winked at the boy and disappeared just a knock came to the door of the apartment.

It was the friseur, an older man with spectacles that sat low on the bridge of his wide nose. He carried a small leather satchel in which he had many tools including irons for curling, blades for shaving and tonics for soothing irritation. He also had vials of lavender powder in as many as five different shades for setting and finishing wigs, both men's and ladies. After spending nearly an hour teasing Wolfgang's natural tresses into a perfectly elegant silhouette of golden blonde, it was finally Ludwig's turn.   
  
The stylist grumbled to himself as he ripped through the matted sections of the boy's hair making him wince and bite his lip in protest. Wolfgang watch curiously as the transformation began, Ludwig was rather handsome under all that grit. He hummed to himself and swallowed the thought, he'd better go fetch his scores...  


 

 

 

  
Walking into the rehearsal some hours later, Ludwig felt a little out of himself. His hair was at least twice as big as usual, and tied quite fashionably with a velvet ribbon at the base of his neck. Herr Mozart had been adamant that he wear one of his more sophisticated waistcoats and jackets. Ludwig nearly begged to escape wearing a loudly coloured maroon ensemble and finally convinced the Maestro that his assistant should not be upstaging his Master's fashion - so he opted for a more muted fabric in a deep blue. It fit him convincingly, ever so slightly too short in the arm, but it was very beautifully put together. He never was one for appearances, but that morning he found himself walking just a little taller.

The choristers smiled at him and hid behind their fans in a giggle. Men in the orchestra eyed him as he passed - nodding their heads in respect. Had they not noticed him in rehearsal before? He had been here all along, why did it seem that so many of them were seeing him for the first time? "People respect a well dressed man Ludwig." Wolfgang nudged him, nodding towards a young soprano who was excitedly bounding towards them at that very moment. Ludwig squinted in an effort to recognize the girl, Frau Gottlieb? Little Barbarina?  
  
"Maestro!" She called with bright eyes, reaching them both with a pant in her breath and rose in her cheeks. She was nearly Ludwig's height with a round youthful face and quite a thin frame. She was most definitely younger than Ludwig, still a child, but beginning to blossom into her own. "Herr Beethoven" she held her breath, meeting his eyes cautiously before curtseying. Ludwig nodded in response, but remained silent much to Wolfgang's disappointment. He was just going to have to jump start this!  
  
"Ludwig - Frau Gottlieb. As I'm sure you know already, she is a very talented singer and a lovely young girl. I think she's about your age." Wolfgang raised his eyebrows suggestively at the boy who stared back at him dumbfounded.  
  
"I'm nearly thirteen Maestro Mozart!" the young girl blushed, tucking her nervous hands behind her back. Ludwig narrowed his eyes at the Maestro who was clearly trying to set something up between them, Ludwig was no idiot. He was momentarily disgusted that the Maestro would try to pawn him off on such a young child, but then it occurred to him that it was unlikely that Mozart even took the time to ask the girl her age. In his own pompous way he most likely just assumed that she, being young and pretty, would be exactly what Ludwig wanted. Who cares that they are nearly five years apart, or that she is barely old enough to be out of ringlets? Well - not Mozart! For being regarded as such a genius, Ludwig was beginning to see that Mozart still had much to learn.

"I'm sure you two have lots to talk about then! Being young musicians and such...." Mozart grinned while backing away slowly in an attempt to extricate himself from the conversation. Ludwig and Anna stared at one another in silence. She, hopeful - him, helpless. Perhaps she could be of some use after all and help him copy out some of the new violin parts?... Ludwig resigned himself to being her company for the morning and escorted her to his work table where he immediately set her to task. She chatted merrily throughout, making Ludwig chuckle and even smile from time to time. Her print was neat enough and Ludwig grew to appreciate the distraction of her voice while he worked. Perhaps it was more pleasant of an experience than he had first imagined.   
  
Mozart wandered his way backstage during a break to find his young protégé laughing with surprising gusto in the company of his sweet little Barbarina. He stopped several paces away to observe the interaction, had he ever seen Ludwig smile? He thought hard, but could not conjure a memory. Nevertheless, it was stirring. His normally dull eyes danced with mirth, he was ..happy? Impossible. Wolfgang pouted, folding his arms across his chest.

Something boiled deep within him as he watched them banter back and forth, smiling and giggling. He had never seen Ludwig so animated - so engaged. His smile was radiant, almost glowing. He had his sleeves rolled up to avoid ink stains, his borrowed jacket hung safely on the back of the chair. Wolfgang appraised his bare arms, grinning affectionately at the smudges of black on his cheeks from where he'd scratched his skin with stained hands. It ruined the neat appearance that Wolfgang had crafted so carefully that morning, but there was something exceptionally endearing about the irony of it all. Can a person ever truly change their ways? Mozart's heart caught in throat when he heard the boy's voice calling him.

"Maestro!" Ludwig beckoned him over, much to Mozart's surprise. The boy speaks!  
  
"Yes? I see you're having quite a good time together..." Wolfgang raised a suspicious eyebrow at them both, making Ludwig's smile fall slightly. Mozart seemed suddenly unhappy. "Well - Anna is a great assistant Sir. In fact, we have finished all of the new parts!" he beamed, holding up the stack of evidence for Mozart's approval. Mozart balked, inconceivable. That was an untold amount of work - impossible to finish during only the morning rehearsal. He thumbed the papers with a frown, under Mozart's tutelage - Ludwig was obviously becoming quite the copyist. "Right. Well - it just so happens that I have another task for you young man."  
  
"Oh? You do not want me to stay with Anna copying more parts?" Ludwig was surprised - was this not what the Maestro wanted? A friend for him, a reason for Ludwig to keep his distance?  
  
"No - I have given it some thought and...well I honestly think it would be improper of me to have my assistant working with a young lady unaccompanied for hours on end. I must find you something else to do with your time. I would not want any rumours being spread about you." Mozart said with a perfect air of maturity, though Ludwig adeptly sensed there was another underlying reason. What specifically - he could not place, not yet anyway. He could tell that Mozart was up to something.

"As such - I have arranged for you to rehearse that lousy aria from yesterday with Signor Benucci." Ludwig's mouth was agape upon hearing this information. He's copying umpteen scores one minute and then asked to rehearse the star of the opera in the very next? Is he insane? "Rehearse....a soloist? On my own?" Ludwig stammered. Mozart had never tasked him with something this important before. Never had he been given the opportunity to work with a musician, until now all he had done was copy scores and take dictation. From time to time, he'd correct partitions or write in bowings. Rehearsing a singer? A soloist - the lead role, and a fiery man at that! Ludwig's mouth hung open, making Wolfgang raise his eyebrows in surprise. "Yes. This afternoon."  
  
"Maestro I'm not sure that - " Ludwig began hesitantly, he had little vocal training and was keenly aware of Mozart's exceptionally high standards. He did not want to be responsible for another walk out. "It was not a request Ludwig."   
  
Ludwig sat back with a scowl, so now the Maestro felt he could order him around as well?  "And even if it were - you expect me to do a decent job with no guidance of any sort? What do you expect me to do with him?" he spat out before he could stop himself, making Wolfgang frown and place his hands on his hips. "It's simple. Play piano - he'll sing. Got it?" Wolf hissed rather condescendingly, he had no patience for arguing and most especially not from his underlings. It was bad enough dealing with the divas of the opera company, he didn't need sass from a fledgling amateur composer as well!  
  
"I think your keyboard skills are functional enough to do the job." Mozart eyed him arrogantly, his voice tinged to provoke. He knew that comment would cut straight to Ludwig's pride.  
  
"Functional? Is that all they are?" Ludwig scoffed, smiling and rolling his eyes, what a day. Was the Maestro trying to start an argument with him?   
  
"Well it takes time to become a great pianist Ludwig, you're still young.” Ludwig scowled bitterly at the comment, "And besides - Signor Bennucci won't know the difference." Mozart smiled haughtily just as the Italian man in question lumbered into the room, interrupting the brewing spat between teacher and pupil.  
  
"Signor Bennucci" Mozart smiled, gesturing towards a stewing Ludwig who fixed his eyes to the stack of transcribed music he had laboured over. And for what?  
  
"This is Herr Beethoven - he will accompany you this afternoon. I hope he can be of some service." Wolfgang nodded before turning to leave, not bothering to say another word to the handsome boy with the angry scowl. It took all of Ludwig's self control not to toss the stack of music onto the floor in a rage, but alas what good would do anyone, especially himself? Why was the Maestro pushing him away? Did he not care for him at all? In that moment, Ludwig just wanted to scream!   
  
"Herr Beethoven - I do hope that you are much less of an ass than your Maestro, and we shall get along just fine." Signor Bennucci extended his wide palm, reaching to shake hands with a hearty chuckle that echoed off the walls with a booming shake. Ludwig clasped his hand readily and smiled up at him, "He's in a class of his own that way Signor - not to worry. He is the best at what does, and most awful when he does it."


	8. Italian Lessons

Ludwig's apprehension to rehearsing the lead role on his own was as such - he was well aware that Signor Benucci was no amateur baritone. Having sung professionally for many years, beginning before the Maestro himself had even seen his tenth birthday, Ludwig knew there was truly no reason for him to rehearse that man. Ludwig felt rather ridiculous schooling an artist who had already received the title of master, most especially with his own limited choral experience. If he was truly as wretched as Wolfgang had suggested, why had he cast him in the lead role to begin with? Ludwig mulled the thought suspiciously as he waited at the keyboard, picking out the odd key to break the silence of the rehearsal room.

He sensed that this may be Mozart's way of removing him from the equation. With his stress level rising in light of tomorrow's premier, it appeared as if the Maestro wanted nothing to do with the boy at all. He seemed to continuously find ways to keep Ludwig occupied - and more so, keep him out of the way. Copying parts, organizing scores, all menial tasks! Each one designed to keep him busy, and to keep him quiet. Writing in bowings did nothing to develop Ludwig's musicianship, challenge his creativity or even test his skill. It was a waste of his time, plain and simple. Wolfgang was most definitely taking advantage of him. Ludwig glowered at the glistening keys. Seeing his partial reflection in the ivory, he scowled angrily. _Damn you Mozart_ , he cursed to himself under his breath, unaware that the Signor he was meant to be rehearsing had been observing him from the doorway. Benucci smiled to himself watching the gloomy storm clouds that surrounded the young man brew. In that moment - he knew precisely how the boy felt.  

Figaro was to be Benucci's first collaboration with the Wunderkind from Austria. He could already say, despite his shameful tantrum earlier that day, that the beauty of Mozart's music would surely bring him back to Vienna for future engagements. As a veteran of Opera Buffa and professional theater, Benucci was undeterred by the young Maestro's foul mouth and his shocking temper. From his many years experience he himself could easily recount endless tales of wanton conductors, diva sopranos and lack-luster scoring. He'd seen his fair share of all three! A silly childish outburst from an egotistical director was practically part of the general business of opera, but having a boy rehearse the lead role the night before curtain? Benucci raised an eyebrow, now that was new.

Wisely, he presumed that Mozart was simply posturing and considering his small stature, Benucci was quite impressed with the dramatic scene he had been able to rouse that morning. He had to admit that there did seem to be something different about this man, and his promising work. It was as if a spell had been cast, and the company and orchestra had all fallen victim. It was clear to him that this production was going to be groundbreaking. He sensed it in the music. He sensed it in the way the cast came together to sing that glorious finale - that wrenching scene between a remorseful man and his heartbroken wife.

The voices of the lead roles would intertwine most artfully through Wolfgang's writing. Miss Storace could match the Signor's dolce legato style in a way that made the chorus nearly hold their breath. Mozart's face was one of pure anguish as he channeled his character's emotions, waving his hands to blend the accompanying chords from the orchestra below stage as he mouthed the words. Benucci sensed Mozart's own work was closer to his heart than the Maestro cared to admit. His ability to relate to the scene on stage was expressed clearly through his pained expression of grief in the midst of the performance of the final act. One could attribute his overly emotional reaction to his artistic immersion in the scene, but Benucci knew better. That was the face of a sad, conflicted man - watching his own life play out on stage, for the world to see.  
  
"Herr Beethoven" Benucci snapped the boy from his reverie, striding over to the piano where Ludwig was seated.

Ludwig's eyes widened, this was it, his opportunity to prove himself. He held his breath for a moment to calm his thoughts.  
  
"Signor" He stood to bow but Benucci raised his finger with a smile, "Ah - not necessary young man. Please - " he gestured back to Ludwig's seat, "Sit." Ludwig nodded and slowly lowered himself back to the chair, tucking his coat tails neatly behind him. He was now suddenly conscious of the shirt sleeves that extended suggestively past the length of the jacket cuff. The coat was indeed a touch too short - tailored for a man of not quite the same measure. He tugged nervously on the hem in an attempt to right their appearance.  
  
Benucci leaned heavily on the piano observing the boy's fidgeting silently. Ludwig noted a few things himself, Benucci was an older man - in his middle years. His hair was beginning to thin and his age showed through faint wrinkles near the corners of his eyes. He had a prominent nose which took up considerable acreage in the center of what otherwise would have been a handsome face. He was taller than Ludwig, and broader too. However, Ludwig had sensed something peculiar about his mannerisms, something almost, feminine? He shrugged it off, the man was Italian after all.  
  
"So - you are here to rehearse me then, are you?" Benucci's voice rumbled with a laugh deep in his chest. He seemed amused with the whole situation, eyeing Ludwig who fidgeted with the score of the aria as it sat on the piano. "Wait child - " he placed his hand over Ludwig's, stilling it, score in hand, "Tell me why the Maestro sent you, and not himself?" Benucci raised an eyebrow curiously at the boy, who simply stared back in silence. Ludwig had no answer, nor could he think of one.  
  
"Do you have any vocal training?" He pressed him with questions, "Have you taught any singers yourself?" Ludwig pulled his hand away nervously and folded it onto his lap. "Well - no..." he admitted bashfully, tucking his feet under his chair. This was not going well.  
  
"So again I wonder, why send you ? Would you not agree that strange?" Benucci leaned his head on his hand, propping himself casually on the piano lid. "Yes." Ludwig looked up at him with a pitiable expression, what was he to do? Suddenly Ludwig truly felt his own naiveté. Benucci felt guilt for questioning the poor boy, especially he already seemed so fragile.  
  
"Well - I say we give it a go, then I can tell him how wonderful you are and he'll be delighted to hear of your success." Benucci winked at him in an effort to lighten the mood, but Ludwig only shook his head placing his hands delicately over the keys, "Somehow I doubt that Signor..." he muttered before unfurling the opening triad for pitch.  
  
"Oh?" His smile fell with concern, "Would that not impress your Master?"  
  
"He's not my Master!" Ludwig practically barked back, smashing a dissonant chord to punctuate his words. He turned to lock heated eyes with Benucci who stared right back with a knowing smirk, "Oh no?" Benucci watched the boy's angry eyes darken before he began to chuckle softly to himself. He knew he'd suddenly hit a nerve. Mozart's puzzle was quickly becoming more apparent, as worn evidently on the skin of a boy who seemed to have little awareness for his own transparency.  
  
"Then - what are you?"  
  
The question made Ludwig stiffen. He breath caught in his throat and he quickly turned back to the score for the aria, his eyes scanning over the notes in an effort to distract himself. The truth of the matter was clear, he did not know what he was, or even who he was. He gritted his teeth as he read over the text of the score before him, _Tutti Contenti_. The irony of the words made him roll his eyes. Benucci drummed his fingers on his chin with a practiced hum, "You seem a little silent on the matter..." Ludwig raised a daring eyebrow at him, clearly unappreciative of the Signor's invasion of his privacy. Was this not meant to be a rehearsal? Sensing his defensiveness, Benucci waved him off.  
  
"No matter - I am well aware of the Maestro's difficult nature." He chuckled, walking over to an abandoned settee, likely a relic left over from a previous production. "You can always...talk to me about it..?" The singer crossed his shapely leg over his knee with a sickening grin. Ludwig remained frozen in place, he barely knew this man - what concern was it of his? "I'm a good listener..." He fingered the velvet fabric of the weathered cushions with a grimace, wiping the dust from his finger with a disapproving frown, "...among other things..." he murmured, turning back to Ludwig with a sweet smile.  
  
His words caught Ludwig off guard, among other things? Something unsettled him about that man. It made him wary. "It's nothing. It's fine - I'm fine."  
  
"Is that so?" Benucci raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, "Well you seem rather...on edge. Just my observation of course..." he shrugged, rising and dusting his coat. He walked over to the piano once more, staring down at the brooding boy. "Tell me, why does a handsome young man such as yourself -" he reach out and stroked Ludwig's cheek appreciatively, "Have such a serious expression?" The sudden contact made Ludwig pull away, partly in fear but also in confusion. Benucci smiled, folding his hands respectfully together atop the piano, "Oh my - and so shy." Ludwig began to panic, blushing wildly from the attention.  
  
"Relax." Benucci placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, squeezing him firmly.  
  
Ludwig had heard those words before, but that had been another time - and it seemed like so long ago now. His Maestro pressed against him in the dark, all warm hands and murmurs. Words so desperate they were nearly incoherent. The sudden memory of that night made Ludwig shift uncomfortably. What was happening? His body twitched traitorously. He swallowed slowly and bravely lifted his eyes to meet the salacious grin of the Signor who had stepped much closer, so close in fact that Ludwig could smell his cologne. Its scent not unpleasant. The devilish look in the older man's eyes made Ludwig's pulse jump. It was as if he was staring into the eyes of a feral animal. One that was about to have its next meal.  
  
"You seem to have a lot of passion for a man who is only your tutor, no?"  
  
Ludwig did not answer, he was instead all too aware of the heavy hand pressing down on his shoulder, keeping him from escaping his place. "Dear boy, do you even know anything of love yet?" cupping Ludwig's face he tilted his head upwards, gazing down at him longingly. Ludwig knew he was in trouble, but something in his body prevented him from moving, it was as if he had lost control of his own limbs and mind. "Sweet thing - so innocent." Ludwig shivered when he felt a dry thumb run over his bottom lip and he lowered his eyes ashamedly. How was he letting this man - a stranger - touch him so intimately?  
  
"Does he love you tenderly? Such a sweet boy deserves it so!" He tisked with a soft pout, petting Ludwig's hair with a free hand. "So beautiful..." He murmured distractedly to himself, holding Ludwig's chin in his hand securely. "He doesn't - I...there is no love between us." Ludwig's voice cracked weakly, "Oh but that's where you're wrong little Maestro, I've seen it myself." Benucci cupped his face once more, bending down to eye level, "He's crazy about you." Ludwig's eyes went wide. "I beg your pardon?"  
  
"Come now - he stares at you! He watches you when you move about the room. His eyes are always on you." He chuckled, returning to stroke the boy's hair. "Are you not wearing his coat just now?" Benucci fingered the embroidered lapels appreciatively, "The sleeves are far too short for you, and I know.." he winked once more and whispered,  "The Maestro has an eye for beautiful things".  The older man brazenly seized his face, kissing him most abruptly. His firm hands were holding him in place as the boy's eyes flew open in absolute shock.  
  
"Signor!" Ludwig flew backwards in his chair once released, and Benucci laughed heartily, "I see his does not kiss you much either." Ludwig's hand shakily fingered his lips, as if to confirm what had just happened. He was so disturbed at what was happening that he barely registered the next phrase, "I can show you how to handle that little man...if you'd like?"  
  
"You know, for when the time comes?" He eyed the boy carefully and returned to his seat on the settee. Crossing his legs delicately once again, as if nothing had transpired between them. Ludwig stared at him in complete disbelief, had he just been - kissed?  
  
"You know I'm not surprised Herr Mozart is like - us" He emphasized the last word, staring at the boy who was nearly trembling, "...despite having taken a wife. Though she is a most enchanting creature herself!" He grinned, tucking his hands behind his head and leaning back, "If I were ever to take a wife - she would be just my type."  
  
"But truthfully," He continued in a matter of fact tone, "that man needed a mother more than he needed a wife. So dear Wolfgang will never make her a good husband. That's not where his heart is, and I believe he's now learning that unfortunate truth." He sat up suddenly and his face became quite serious, "Through you that is."  
  
"He's learning that truth through you." He repeated.  
  
Ludwig's heart was thumping in his ears, he could scarcely register what Signor was saying over his own thoughts. "Now come -" He beckoned the boy with extended hands, "- because I foresee this soon being a necessary endeavor for you." Ludwig furrowed his brow, did he expect him to join him on the settee? Was this man out of his mind?  
  
"Ludwig - I promise you, I won't do you any harm." He pouted mockingly, "On my honour!" he added with a smile.  
  
"Honour?" Ludwig scoffed distrustfully, "What honour do you have Sir?"  
  
Benucci chuckled at the accuracy of the insult, "Quite right boy. Quite right." He patted the cushion to his side and nodded encouragingly, "Come...I know of these things" he coaxed once more, and for a reason that Ludwig could not fathom, he stepped forward towards the man, taking his hand and allowing himself to be guided to sit at his side, so close their knees bump against one another. He clasped Ludwig's hands in his own, patting them soothingly. "You are just - darling!" He shook his head, as if not believing that Ludwig sat before his very eyes. He took each hand in his own and ran his thumb over Ludwig's knuckles, pausing in thought. "Well - perhaps..." his words drifted off before he suddenly flipped the boy onto his back and straddled his waist, crushing down on his with his full weight. "Perhaps it's easier if I just show you?" Ludwig lay winded underneath him, eyes wide and mouth agape.  
  
"Firstly - you must get his attention..." He ran his finger down Ludwig's middle, from throat to belly, pressing into his soft flesh with a grin. "You can kiss him - or...other places..." He abruptly palmed the boy who squirmed instinctively, "Sshh" he hushed him, "Not to worry." Ludwig whimpered in a mixture of fear and shyness. "Once he's ready - you can do this - " He hoisted the boys legs roughly over his hips, pressing his pelvis to Ludwig's backside, grinding against the smaller frame with an expression of utter glee.  Ludwig bit his lip nervously, this was too much. He swallowed a whimper when Benucci's hands roamed over the front of his breeches, stopping to stroke appreciatively along what he knew was the boy's most sensitive area. Ludwig closed his eyes, imagining himself back in his own bed, a different pair of hands...  
  
"Good boy" He heard faintly before being flipped on his front rather carelessly, "Or like this." Ludwig was drawn up onto his knees, hands stilling his waist as he felt him rubbing himself up against his backside. Ludwig tried to deny how surprisingly pleasing it felt. He felt himself straining and oozing in reaction to the older man's ministrations. He dipped his head low and rested his forehead against the cushion, hiding his face in embarrassment.  
  
"Oh and la piece de resistance?" He chuckled at his own poor French, flattening Ludwig down onto his stomach and laying himself across his lower half, pressing his excitement against Ludwig's cheeks, "This is a popular one" He leaned heavily over the boy and whispered in his ear, "It's to reach a special place inside your little Maestro..." He held the boy's hips and freely thrusted against him, clearly enjoying his own efforts. The force of each thrust ground Ludwig's excitement into the cushions of the sofa, providing just enough friction to make him ache wantonly. He tried to push it out of his mind but his thoughts kept travelling back to ...oh no. Ludwig's eyes shot open and he grunted with a shudder.  
  
Benucci's movements stilled above him, before Ludwig felt the weight lift from his body, signalling him that he was finally free. Ludwig turned his reddened face to the side, breathing fresh air heavily through his slackened mouth. "You see?" The singer knelt down at the boy's level, "Such a shame young boys never last long..." He lamented, stroking Ludwig's heated cheek affectionately, "Tell Wolfie he's a lucky man. He's going to have fun with you, you sweet thing."  
  
Benucci cleared his throat and stood, running his hands over his coat and breeches, smoothing out their appearance. He swept a flamboyant hand through his loosened hair and smiled down at Ludwig who remained on his belly, regaining his breath "You'll do fine with what I've given you."  
  
He walked towards the door, stopping to turn back and grin, "My door is always open if you need more....instruction."  
  
Watching him disappear, Ludwig sighed in relief, burying his face in the cushions with a muffled scream. He didn't know what to say - how to feel? He felt...good? No no, that cannot be right. He frowned in thought.

  
One thing was for certain, Signor Benucci had given him a lot of things to think about.

  
And a lot of ideas.

 

  
He now had a new found sense of determination.

 

  
  
  
And also......a new hatred for singers.

 

 

 

 


	9. Surprise Endings

 

 

 

Feeling more than a little uncomfortable after his encounter with Signor Benucci, Ludwig carefully considered his options to move forward. To move anywhere in fact. Still stuck face down on the abandoned sofa, he was painfully aware that he could not simply wait around for the day's rehearsal to conclude before confronting that damn silver tongued baritone, or even before facing the Maestro himself. Most especially not with the tell tale mark of that afternoon's activities darkening the front of his breeches. Every member of the cast and orchestra, including Herr Mozart, would suddenly become far too curious about exactly what had transpired behind closed doors that day. What had passed between accompanist and singer? Ludwig sighed in aggravation, dabbing an old cloth to the stain in a feeble attempt to camouflage the mortifying evidence of his inexperience.

He grumbled to himself growing slightly more concerned upon hearing the orchestra take its break, and soon thereafter the sound of footsteps as people approached. Men chatted idly as they took their repose. Lone fiddlers stayed back in the pit to train their fingers over the more difficult passages. Chairs scrapped and clattered across the floor and exhausted musicians rose to stretch their limbs and yawn. In the distance Ludwig could faintly make out the sound of an oboe waning, and the chortle of laughter as the chorus shared what was likely more theater gossip. He prayed it was not with thanks to Signor Benucci who, in Ludwig's mind, would be more than happy to spin tales of the virginal boy who was love sick over the talented - but married - Maestro. He sighed, he had to get home. He had to leave the theater, and he had to do so quickly, before anyone noticed.  
  
Deciding against announcing his unplanned departure Ludwig discreetly stole away through the back of theater and headed straight to the platz with much haste. He did not want the Maestro to discover that he had left early, and Ludwig knew that he needed to be back in time for evening rehearsal. Cut through the town square, take the side street past the butcher and then march straight across the park. He mentally calculated the fastest route, picturing each turn, reminding himself of each shop window he was to pass along the way. The walk to the theater, now a daily routine, had become so familiar to him that it was if he had walked the route his whole life. He had quietly observed the scenery each day as Mozart spoke heatedly about one thing or another, waving his carved walking stick about in the air as he griped about the latest injustice in his theatrical masterpiece. Ludwig smirked to himself at the memory of it, Wolfgang could be a right curmudgeon when the mood struck him. 

Ludwig's steps quickened once he reached the market square, he did not have time to waste browsing through the vendor stalls or picking up a fresh coffee as he had become so accustomed. Instead he slipped nimbly through the crowds of busy townsfolk, absorbed in their own clouded minds. Most walked right past him without so much as a nod or tip of their hat. Keeping his own tri corner low over his brow and his coat tightly clasped, Ludwig prayed he would not be recognized. If Mozart had been with him, such a disguise would have been impossible. Everyone in this damn town seemed to know the Wunderkind!

During his trip back to the platz he reflected on what Signor Benucci had said most seriously to him that afternoon. Was it true that the Maestro was crazy about him? In Ludwig's mind, he seemed to only want to push him away, certainly not draw him in. Ludwig knew that his own feelings were quite the opposite, as proven by his inability to, as one would say - keep his cool - during Benucci's lesson.

Ludwig could not keep his mind from wandering to thoughts of his Maestro as that creaky old man lay out across his back. The feel of hips pressed to hips, a brush of soft lips - it was true, Ludwig had somewhat enjoyed the encounter, but not without a little fantasy of his own. He had closed his eyes and pictured his Maestro. His smile, his soulful eyes and the intoxicating warmth of his lithe body. One whisper in his ear from that husky baritone was all it took to send Ludwig over the edge. He shuddered as he remembered opening his eyes with a gasp, only to realize that it was not his Maestro who was smiling down at him, but the Signor himself who was grinning triumphantly from ear to ear.

The thought of it now nearly made him sick. How could he let a man he barely knew touch him in such a forward, brazen manner? And to react so - obviously! Ludwig frowned, he was disappointed with himself. Admittedly, had Benucci not felt as physically satisfying as the hands of the Maestro himself? It had certainly produced the same messy result. Ludwig grunted, he was not in the mood to debate his own conscience! Benucci had taken advantage of him, plain and simple. However, the man had raised some good points and generally speaking, Ludwig appreciated his advice on the matter of what to do about the Wolfgang situation.

"Follow your heart boy, because you never know what tomorrow may bring." Benucci patted his shoulder chastely as he watched Ludwig's glassy eyes blink slowly, recovering from his accidental release. Out of breath, and nearly out of his mind, Ludwig had barely heard him in that moment, but his words came clearly to him now. _Do not wait._

Ludwig sighed, pushing the thought from his mind as he turned through the gate and headed towards the door of Wolfgang's apartment. He flew up the stairs two by two - with any luck, no one would be home. Heading straight for his room, fixated on righting his appearance, Ludwig completely missed Frau Mozart who had been quietly waiting in the sitting room, working away at another one of her needle points. She was surprised to see young Beethoven home mid-afternoon on the eve of the premier. Most especially as he was not in the company of her husband, as seemed to be the custom these days.  
  
"Herr Beethoven?" She called out to him, lowering her embroidery to her lap, but he was too engrossed in finding a clean pair of breeches to answer her. "Ludwig?" She called again, this time more authoritatively, which caught his attention from the other room. Quickly shoving his thigh through the leg of his pants, he fastened the buttons and hastily tucked his shirt back into place. He could fix it later.  
  
"...yes, Frau Mozart?" Ludwig tentatively poked his head around the corner, meeting her eyes with caution. He had hoped to be alone but alas, he was instead lured directly into the dragon's lair. He pressed his lips together in apprehension, watching her scan him carefully. She consumed him with her judgmental eyes, taking in everything from his mess of chocolate hair to his rumpled linen shirt and his once white stockings, now stained with street dirt. He was surely not the portrait of finery she was accustomed to from her dainty husband, all neatly pruned and pleated each morning. Ludwig felt disturbingly uncomfortable under her watchful gaze.  
  
"I received a letter today." She said plainly, as if her statement of such a mundane event would spark a great discussion between them. Though something about the seriousness of her words and the plainness of the way she delivered them made Ludwig's heart quicken. He did not answer, he merely stood in place waiting for her next phrase with an expression of great uncertainty.  
  
"From Bonn." She continued, looking down and thumbing her stitching, "It was from your parents. Well, from your father..." She looked up with sad eyes and Ludwig furrowed his brow, father? How dare he write to Herr Mozart, as if he was some sort of child who could not reply to a letter sent! The Maestro and his wife were not his guardians, and they had no business in his familial dealings.  
  
"Your mother is gravely ill and they have requested you return home immediately." She reached for a folded letter that rested on the small table at her side. She extended it towards Ludwig, as if to say, _here - read this if you do not believe me_. Ludwig's scowl softened to a frown of sudden sadness. "I thought you would be upset, and being busy at the theater all day - I decided it would be best if I booked your passage home on your behalf."

Ludwig snatched the letter, her words beginning to boil angrily under his skin. On my behalf? Her voice became muted as he scanned the letter in disbelief, rereading over the lines that were underlined boldly, _must return home immediately._  
  
"A mail coach leaves tomorrow for Bonn, they had room for a single passenger. They have agreed to meet you outside of the platz by mid morning." She said at nearly a whisper, watching the boy read frantically. Was he even listening?  
  
Ludwig lowered the letter slowly and narrowed his eyes at her angrily. "The maid will help you pack if -"  
  
"Frau Mozart -" He boldly interrupted her, using every ounce of self control he could muster, "I must protest this ...rash decision. I was not consulted on any of these plans - I have work to complete at the theater. The premier is tomorrow, surely my departure can be delayed for one day?"  
  
Stanzi sighed, placing his embroidery on the table and sweeping her skirts clear of debris. "Listen - Ludwig...." she began with an ironic chuckle, "You must think I am rather dull not to notice, but I can assure you - I know what happens under my own roof." Ludwig's eyebrows shot up in surprise, "Excuse me?" he sputtered, stepping towards her with his hands on his hips. What exactly was she accusing him of?  
  
"You're still quite young - but please understand. Wolfie is my husband." Her voice softened, "He's the father of my child." Ludwig frowned, what was this woman getting at?  
  
"Do you think I do not know of his...interests? His, tendencies?" She looked to him suspiciously, folding her hands in her lap. "I'm not stupid..." She shrugged, casting her eyes to the floor. Ludwig's posture eased slightly as he lowered his hands to his side, she knew?  
  
"Forgive me for sending you home abruptly but please understand. I have a family to protect and he," she hesitated, "Doesn't always make good choices for us." Ludwig bowed his head, feeling rather guilty for having any involvement in the family's strife. Stanzi frowned and rose, walking towards him and taking his hands gently, "He has a son who needs him - and I need him too. You understand that don't you?"  
  
Ludwig thought to his own siblings, a crushing sense of shame burning his cheeks. Here was a woman, a wife, a mother - begging for the return of her husband, and from a young man barely old enough to shave. "I understand, yes." He pulled his hands from her, tucking them behind his back, squeezing his own fingers nervously. His stomach churned with guilt.  
  
"I know he's talked of tours - even taking you with him, but it cannot be." Stanzi pressed her palm to her breast, holding her heart most earnestly. "If he were to leave with you," Her voice wavered and her eyes brimmed with unshed tears, "I know he'd likely never come back."  
  
"He's all Karl and I have."  


 

Karl.

 

  
Ludwig swallowed thickly, looking up at her through thick lashes, sympathetic to her plight. He never wanted to cause grief - or to see the boy lose his Papa! Ludwig squeezed his own wrist until it pained him, wincing at the sensation, the sting of it the only thing prohibiting his own tears from falling.  
  
"Then what would I do....?" She whispered defeatedly, "...what would I do?"  
  
"Understood" was the best he could manage without falling to pieces. He knew she was right, but it did not make it any less difficult to digest. Herr Mozart had made a commitment to his wife and to his child. He had a responsibility to them, to their welfare and happiness. How could he possibly imagine himself falling in love with another - most especially a young boy? Though Ludwig had dreamed, fantasized and prayed, he knew that any sort of relationship with Herr Mozart was out of the question. Desire or not, it simply was not feasible. Deep down, Ludwig had always known that. Though he had always hoped beyond hope for that unlikely possibility, that slight chance. That one in a million. Standing before Wolfgang's tearful young wife who was now pregnant with his second child, it was now painfully obvious that any hope he had for the Maestro had only ever been a fleeting wish, and a wish is what it would seem fated to remain.  
  
"..And I'm sorry about your mother too." She knitted her delicate brow together in a soft, yet pained expression. Ludwig slowly met her apologetic eyes, but did not respond. He simply nodded in acceptance and turned to leave without another word.  
  
There was nothing much to say anyway.  
  
  
  
  
Due back at the theater to catch the end of the final rehearsal, Ludwig's mind raced with a thousand thoughts. He did not even care that he would be late, or that he would miss the staging of the final act. Going home? Tomorrow? He would miss far more than a single act - he would miss the entire premier. He would miss...everything. He stood outside the theater entrance, his hands shoved deeply into the pockets of his borrowed coat. Silk lined, of course. He smiled to himself, thumbing the smooth lining. He would miss Mozart most of all. His cheeks flushed at the silent admission.  
  
The sound of the stage door swinging shut jolted him from his reverie, as he looked up to see the dancing eyes of the company's most lecherous male lead. "Ah, little Maestro!" He smiled fondly, noticing Ludwig's sullen face. "Whatever is the matter child?" He tucked his hands into his waistcoat, stepping down the stairs with a bounce in his step. Ludwig turned away in disgust, wishing for something smart to say.  
  
"My my..." He chuckled with a click of his tongue, "I hope it wasn't something I said..." he winked with a laugh, "Your Maestro awaits, rehearsal is done. Try to let him get at least a little sleep before tomorrow's opening night, yes?" He broke into a deep laugh, ruffling Ludwig's hair condescendingly before toddling off, whistling obnoxiously as he walked. "Remember what I said..." He called back over his should in a sing song voice, before disappearing from view.  
  
Ludwig frowned angrily, gritting his teeth. He was not miss _that_ man.

  
He exhaled slowly and pushed through the doors to backstage. He was suddenly immersed in the comings and goings of what seemed like an endless sea of thespians, weaving his way through the narrow hallways, sidestepping singers, prop masters and plenty of costumes laying in wait. "Excuse me..." he mumbled, squeezing past a musician balancing a cello and a folder bursting with manuscripts. Everyone seemed to be on their way home. He supposed that in a way, he was on his as well.  
  
He paused outside Wolfgang's dressing room as the door was slightly ajar. Through it he could see the Maestro flitting from place to place, organizing his score page by page. Music was scattered all about the room, and he was clearly trying to organize himself for tomorrow night. Ludwig frowned longingly as he peered through the doorway. Mozart looked handsome, even dressed down. He had shed his elegant red coat, his sleeves now rolled casually to the elbow, his waistcoat nipped perfectly to his narrow sides. His golden hair was as glorious as always, ever so gently ragged from a day's work but it was real, and to Ludwig - it was perfection.  
  
"Where is the damn third page?..." Wolfgang hissed, shifting through a melee of papers, "I swear..." he muttered to himself in frustration, too immersed to notice Ludwig's presence in the room. The boy watched with a forlorn expression as the Maestro paced about, shuffling and reshuffling his work. "I know that I put it over - ah, Ludwig!" Wolfgang jumped in surprise, not having heard the boy enter. "Where were you during the final rehearsal? I missed you during the - " he swallowed his words when Ludwig stepped forward and seized him abruptly. He forcefully pressed his lips to his own. Mozart was so shocked that the pile of scores slipped right through his fingers, splashing about all over the floor in a complete disarray. Wolfgang's eyes widened in surprise as the boy closed any distance between them, nearly backing them both right into the dressing table. Wolfgang stumbled slightly against the furniture piece and raised his hands in a show of submission. "Alright - easy.." He protested through the kiss.  
  
"Ludwig! Ludwig - what...what are you doing?" Mozart panted as he broke away, staring at the boy in a mixture of fear and bewilderment. Ludwig tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at him, as if to say, _what do you mean?_  
  
"I - I am not that - er, well I didn't think you...how..?" He stuttered, feeling Ludwig press closer still, pushing him backwards into the table. Mozart's hands gripped the top to steady himself under the onslaught. Ludwig just shook his head and cupped the Maestro's face, watching his panicked eyes dart about in confusion.  
  
"Relax..." the boy murmured cheekily before kissing him again, this time holding him to it. He felt Wolfgang resist, but he ignored his whimpers and finally took what he wanted. He had had enough of this game, it was now or never. Wolfgang softened under him slightly, feeling the boy's hands reach for his waist. Ludwig broke away, moving instead to kiss his neck and hollow of his throat. Wolfgang swallowed a gentle moan, closing his eyes in appreciation, "What..." he whispered deliriously, "What is going on..?"  
  
Ludwig's eyes snapped up to his own, "You're about to have a lesson, Maestro." Wolfgang raised his eyebrows with a dazed smile, "Is that so?" he chuckled nervously, feeling Ludwig press against him suggestively. He bit his lip and grinned at the boy who's eyes smoldered with passion, he was rather convincing wasn't he?  
  
"And what makes you the expert?" Wolfgang goaded him as the boy worked to unbutton his vest and shirt, kissing a delightful trail along the way, "Oh - well.." he interrupted himself as he kissed his way down Wolfgang's soft belly, nuzzling the sparse hairs that grew there, "I've had lessons."  
  
Wolfgang frowned at the unexpected answer, "Lessons?"

  
Ludwig grinned, tugging the Maestro's shirt open and allowing his hands to roam over his porcelain skin, "A few pointers - you know...from an expert" He kissed him gingerly, "Oh?"  
  
Ludwig ran his hands down Wolfgang's middle, sliding down to the front of his breeches. He kissed him greedily as he assessed the challenge, "Allow me..." he parroted back to Wolfgang in a sultry tone. Wolfgang was instantly reminded of his own words whispered long ago under the cover of dark. He gasped when he felt a hand wrap itself around him, teasing and stroking appreciatively. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly to calm himself, _relax Wolfgang_ , he repeated to himself silently, _relax._  
  
Ludwig eyed his Maestro carefully, gauging his reaction.  
  
He most definitely had his attention.  
  
Ludwig grinned, pulling his hands free and unbuttoning the restrictive clothing and then moving to undo his own. "Turn over." He instructed as he busied himself with his own attire. Wolfgang's eyes opened suddenly, "What?"  
  
"Turn. Over." Ludwig snapped shortly, turning a small circle with his finger in demonstration. Wolfgang frowned in confusion but did as he was told, albeit hesitantly. From this vantage point, he could see not only himself in the dressing mirror, but the boy behind him as well. For a brief moment, they caught each other's eye in the reflection. Wolfgang smiled at him, and Ludwig smiled back. How many times had Wolfgang been witness to such a miraculous thing as that smile?

 

He held Wolfgang's waist, pressing against him tentatively, "You are certain about this?" Wolfgang spoke to the boy's reflection in the mirror. Ludwig nodded, squeezing the narrow hips between his hands, "And you?"

  
  
Wolfgang raised an eyebrow, "You'll have to ask me that after..." he chuckled, his voice tinged with a subtle nervousness. Ludwig nodded, stroking the smooth skin on his back as he stood bent forward over the wooden table. His skin was prickled, from either the cold or the anticipation - perhaps a mix of both. Wetting his thumb he carefully trailed his way to where careful preparation and attention was needed most. Wolfgang groaned and dropped his head immediately. Ludwig's gentle probing was received most enthusiastically. Hearing the throaty sighs from his Maestro made Ludwig's own need twitch and throb, and so he pressed himself against him instinctively. Ludwig was certain he would go mad with need before the night was through.  
  
Stroking his own need to calm it, Ludwig hesitated, looking down at what he was about to do. His Maestro was standing there, bare ass and wanton, waiting impatiently for whatever was about to come next. Neither one of them being all too sure. He swallowed nervously and pressed himself to the tense muscles and stiffened, feeling Wolfgang resist. "It's fine - continue." Wolfgang caught his eye in the reflection, nodding to him in encouragement. Ludwig nodded back and pressed on, holding himself still once he could go no further.  
  
"Are you.." He leaned forward to whisper, but Wolfgang's answer came quickly, "Yes - good." Ludwig righted himself and steadied him at the waist, holding his hips gently as he withdrew slowly, and then returning once more. His slow thrusts coaxed quiet whimpers from Wolfgang who rested his head on his arms, feeding himself backwards with each movement. "Faster" came the sharp demand. Ludwig closed his eyes, feeling his stomach flip.  
  
"Ludwig..." Wolfgang called to him in an effort to see the boy open his eyes  
  
"Ludwig!" Wolfgang hissed through the thrusts, "Ludwig - kiss me!" The boy's eyes fluttered open and his thrusts slowed to near still, "I said, kiss me - are you deaf?" Wolfgang grunted in frustration. Ludwig shook his head and pulled Wolfgang upright, turning his head back to place a sloppy kiss on his lips and jaw. Wolfgang smiled lazily, leaning back against him, guiding the boy's hand around to his own need. "And, uh - don't forget about me..." he murmured, biting the boy's lip softly.  
  
Ludwig allowed his hand to be guided in pleasuring his Maestro, squeezing with each stroke, quickening enough to make him choke and sputter, "That's it.." he encouraged, bucking against the boy's hand, still feeling him from the inside. "Now fuck me." He whispered to Ludwig desperately. Those sharp words and the needy bucking against the boy's hand were enough to send Ludwig over the edge. His body stiffened as he came suddenly, shooting out in spasms that rocked and pulsed through his body. Mozart groaned as he continued to puppet the boy's hand to bring him to his own urgent end. He erupted a warm sticky mess into Ludwig's hand with a great groan of satisfaction.  For several moments they stood dizzily over one another, grinning at each in the mirror, panting.  
  
"Maestro I -" Ludwig's face suddenly fell, his chest still heaving. Leave it to the boy to sullen a moment so blissful, Wolfgang sighed. "No no," he turned to hush him, placing a finger to his lips. "Whatever it is - it can wait until tomorrow." He stroked the boy's hair and kissed him sweetly, "Don't you think?... Let's not spoil this."  
  
Ludwig looked away, suddenly overcome with sadness. Wolfgang frowned, confused at his obvious distress. "Ludwig?"  
  
"Maestro, I'm going home tomorrow." The boy managed to blurt out before becoming completely undone. Wolfgang stared at him in shock and dismay, the colour completely draining from his face, had he heard that correctly?

 

 "What?" was all he could manage in reply.

 

 

 

 


	10. The Final Act

 

 

Wolfgang was stunned.   
  


 

Flustered.

 

 

Completely disoriented.  
  


 

_Leaving?_

 

  
  
To Wolfgang, it still seemed as if the boy had only just arrived. He remembered their first meeting as clearly as Ludwig stood before him now. He could picture it all in great detail, from his unassuming appearance to the boy's soft spoken nature. Ludwig had truly not seemed like much when he first arrived on Wolfgang's doorstep, and in fact, he had barely spoken a word to prove otherwise. It took days for Mozart to even know the sound of his voice over his intense shyness. Days passed as they do, and in time a new routine was formed through which Ludwig came to prove himself as quite the talent. His monumental keyboard skills were not unlike Wolfgang's own. It was true, he had bonded with the boy, a fellow genius with promising abilities and a keen mind for hard work. He knew that night as he watched him diligently copying his overture, pitch by pitch - revising each page with his most critical eye, that Ludwig was something different.   
  
He was sincere, and eager to please. It was clear to Wolfgang that the boy wanted nothing more than to impress and be accepted as a musician, and perhaps more importantly - as a man. He seemed so displaced, and without any familiarity for love or encouragement. Compliments or kind words made him blush bashfully, or stumble over himself. His awkward introversion was endearing, and seeing that rare smile made Wolfgang feel that any trouble was most always worthwhile. Did this departure from Vienna mean that smile would be lost forever?  
   
Returning to Bonn was no small endeavour. It would take weeks to travel by coach, taking nearly the same length of time that he'd invested here in the city of Vienna itself. After working so closely at his side during the mounting of Figaro, why would he chose to leave on the morning of the premier?   
  
"Going home?" Wolfgang frowned, watching helplessly as Ludwig struggled to keep his composure. The boy's cheeks burned bright red as he wiped his eyes furiously with the back of his hands. Wolfgang assured himself that by his obvious aversion, this could not have been the boy's own decision.  
  
"But why?" Softening his tone, Wolfgang reached out, grabbing hold of his arm and squeezing gently, "You cannot be serious?"   
  
Ludwig looked down at the small hands that held him in disbelief. So little, he mused to himself with a forlorn expression. Since childhood, everything he'd ever heard about Mozart had been larger than life. From the grandiose tales of improvisation in the glittering palaces of Versailles, to the great masterpieces mounted on stage at the Emperor's state theatre. He had always dreamt of meeting this man. To young Ludwig, Mozart was legend, he was an idol - a fantasy. Standing on this man's doorstep some weeks ago, Ludwig would have never imagined he would be in this moment now. Here he was - the great Master of Vienna - standing at his side, flushed and expectant. Legend no longer, Wolfgang now held the title of teacher, mentor and friend.   
  
Lover perhaps? Ludwig cheeks glowed a soft, humble pink.   
  
Seeing those brilliant blue eyes blinking up at him with such a desperate expression, it was all Ludwig could do not to look away. Everything that was measurable about the great Wolfgang Mozart now seemed so impossibly small. His thin frame, his patent shoes, his delicate hands - Ludwig realized that he was but a man, barely of child's size.

He was as plain and as unsure of himself as the boy, as all other humans on earth.

The thought made Ludwig want to cry.  
  
For a man with enough talent in his hands to spin a melody sweeter than one had ever known, or weave a harmony so beautiful that it would leave you breathless, he knew that in reality, Mozart was just another flawed human being. He was no more gifted than anyone who had come before him, nor more so than those who would come to pass. He was no demi God, and certainly no mythical creature. He was brash, he was vain and wickedly short tempered. He was completely imperfect and he was wholly human. He could not, for all of the music in the world, control destiny or stop fate from rolling cruelly through their lives. What had once seemed like the ability to control sound by magic to a young boy, Ludwig now understood as merely practiced art. There was no supernatural, there was no higher force, and he was living proof of that. It turned out most sadly, that Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was a man like any other.

Weak, faulted and insecure.  
  
Ludwig scoffed cruelly. If there truly was a God, he reasoned silently - he would be here now.   
  
He placed his hand over Wolfgang's own with a pensive smile, "It's already arranged, I have no choice."  
  
Wolfgang just shook his head slowly, unable to process the definitiveness of his words.   
  
"My mother has taken ill and I have been summoned to return immediately."  
  
Wolfgang's face suddenly turned to one of exasperation, "Can you not delay for one more day? The premier is tomorrow - I need you here to assist! Surely your family will understand?"  
  
Ludwig smiled weakly at him, he was sympathetic to Mozart's bewilderment and reactive denial. He too had run the gauntlet of possibilities. He'd played all of the variations and had found no suitable resolution. "It is an absolute Wolfie, I'm sorry...." the sadness in the boy's voice along with the use of his common name made Wolfgang choke. He felt a large lump forming in his throat and he swallowed in panic, feeling fat salty tears building in the corners of his eyes. He had never heard the boy refer to him by anything less than Herr or Maestro, how sweet a sound - come too late!  
  
"But...." Wolfgang stumbled at a loss for words, he felt he was beginning to lose at a game he did not realize he had been playing.

"Thank you." Ludwig murmured, thumbing his cheek sadly, "Thank you, really - for everything Maestro."  
  
Ludwig squeezed his hand gently, "For your hospitality, your instruction and your time." Wolfgang furrowed his brow in consternation. This could not be the end! How ridiculous! Ludwig sensed his frustration and scoffed with a bitter chuckle, "I had aspirations beyond tonight, but alas - it seems God has made other plans for the two of us." Ludwig whispered idly, running his thumb over the Maestro's bottom lip. "Ludwig - " Mozart shook his head. There had to be another?  
  
Ludwig hushed him and placed a finger over his lips, "You have a family - and they love you." Cupping his face, Ludwig leaned in eyed him quite seriously, "They need you more than I." Wolfgang practically rolled his eyes, he was not having any of this. The boy was out of his mind!   
  
"Did somebody put you up to this Ludwig?" Wolfgang grasped desperately for a motive

Ludwig simply shook his head and continued calmly, "You're a father Wolfie, do you know how important you are?" Mozart smiled briefly, "Karl loves you Wolfgang. He needs you here."  
  
"But what about you?" Wolfgang shook his head in confusion and Ludwig sighed. How could he make this man understand?  
  
 "You're already in your place and I still need to find my own."   
  
Pressing their foreheads together, the pair rested like that, just listening to each other's breathing. It was getting late and the theatre had grown deafeningly silent. "But I just do not understand?" Wolfie hiccuped quietly, silent tears staining his cheeks.   
  
"We will both come to understand this," Ludwig slid his arms around his Maestro, squeezing him against his chest, "I'm certain - with time." Ludwig nuzzled into the soft golden hair atop Wolfgang's head. He wondered if this would be last time that he would be so close to the man he'd worshipped for so long. In silent thought, their bodies comforted one another that night in the dressing rooms backstage. They would eventually make love once more, before regretfully returning home to the platz in the early hours of the morning. Bidding one final good night from their respective doorways with longing stares and mournful frowns, they knew this was it. They were both losing something that neither one had really found. Neither one would sleep through the few remaining hours of darkness before sunrise, there was far too much to think about.  


  
Come morning Ludwig packed the few things that remained in utter silence. He checked the little room over once more, ensuring all of his belongings had been accounted for. His papers, his shirts, his diary. He'd neglected so many entries during the past few weeks. He knew that the journey home would provide ample opportunity to document his experiences in Vienna and his encounter with the greatest musician he'd yet known. Lastly, he folded the fine silk jacket that Wolfgang had lent him, it's deep blue silk iridescent in the early sun. It was tastefully trimmed with gold thread and heavy buttons with wide cuffs that Ludwig so admired. It was far too extravagant a garment for Ludwig to have made for himself, but he adored it nonetheless. Truth be told, it had been a touch on the small side for Ludwig - but it's fine tailoring made him feel like he was an aristocrat or noble gentleman. Somehow that little garment had elevated him each time his wore it. It brought him respect, and it had helped to build his confidence, something Wolfgang was also a large part of himself. Ludwig knew its value, in currency and in sentiment, he knew he must return it to its rightful owner. The man for whom it was made would surely miss it, and there would already be enough to grieve.

Standing out front to see him off was the entire Mozart family, including his most darling Karl, beside his more cool and distant Mama. "I wish you a safe journey Herr Beethoven," Stanzi nodded, her words honest and true. Ludwig bowed gently in return, removing his respectfully. He hoped that she would treat Wolfgang well, and that with Wolfgang she provide a happy home for young Karl and the next child already on its way. Wolfie however, remained silent, holding young Karl on his hip.  
  
"Papa, papa!" Karl cried out suddenly, watching Ludwig's trunk be hoisted to the top of the mailcoach and skillfully tied into place. "Why is Ludi leaving?" His little arms gripped Wolfgang's neck tightly, and his voice was full of agitation.  
  
Ludwig's heart broke a little, hearing himself called by name. The truth was, he did not want to leave, and most especially not for the sake of young Karl. "His Mama is sick my liebchen, he must go..." Wolfie bounced the boy the distract him, to no success.   
  
"No! Ludi stays!" The boy protested angrily, throwing his small blanket to the ground. Stanzi sighed audibly, retrieving the blanket from the stone and transferring the furious toddler into her own arms. She wished for all of this to end swiftly. She could barely stand the sight of them together, staring awkwardly at one another with wretched heart ache and anguish clearly in their eyes. It tore her to pieces knowing of their intimacy and what is worse, an intimacy that she could never provide him herself. The boy had intellect, a musical gift that rivalled her husband's own and the possibility of something romantic having passed between them. In a few short weeks, that boy had meant more Wolfgang than she ever could have in the entirety of their marriage. He satisfied things she never knew of, and probably never will. As a sign of peace, she decided that she would at least grant her husband this final moment. She would take the boy inside and wait for Wolfie to return.  
  
Wolfgang watched his wife and son disappear into the apartment. He waited for the door to click shut behind them before turning back to the heavy hearted young man with raised eyebrows. "Ludwig..." Wolfie made to step forward, but he was immediately reminded of their most public location.

The coachmen and passersby would certainly be listening.  
  
"Your coat - Maestro" Ludwig handed the blue jacket towards him, draping it over his extended arms most delicately. Wolfgang looked at it sadly, realizing he would never see Ludwig wear it again. It was a beautiful coat. He had it made here in Vienna just after he had finished writing the Abduction from the Seraglio. He had worn it the day he defied his father and married his Stanzi, the woman he had vowed himself to for life. She loved the way the dark blue brought out the colour of his eyes. He remembered the way it's fine silhouette made him feel that day. He smiled at it now, draped over the boy's arm. Four years later, it showed many signs of life well lived, but it was still beautiful just the same.   
  
"Keep it." He ran his hand over the fabric nostalgically, "It looked better on you anyway."  
  
Ludwig recognized the significance of his words, and of his gift. He accepted without protest, nodding in thanks. There was nothing else left to say. Tucking it under his arm protectively, Ludwig climbed into the coach and replaced his hat to his head, patting it down into place. His face turning suddenly sullen.  
  
"Write me on your Mama - and the progress of your music. I'll be here next time you are in Vienna." Mozart smiled hopelessly. He wished he could profess his true feelings in that moment - he wished he could hold him once more, or confess his desires to run away with him. To start over - to do as he pleased. However, it was not to be. Ludwig waved one last time as the coach departed, leaning out the window with a long face. Wolfgang waved back, watching him disappear for what would ultimately be, the last time.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you dear reader for indulging me on this strange - but wonderful! - endeavor. 
> 
> Special thanks to Hannah my lovely artist friend :)


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